The Greatest Kind of Magic
by Private Maladict
Summary: When Liam Grady received his letter from Hogwarts, he chose to ignore it and go to a Muggle school! Now sixteen, he's forced to enter Hogwarts for the first time, and show the wizarding world that spells and potions are not the only forms of magic...
1. A New Face

**_Chapter 1_**

**_A New Face_**

Liam Grady normally liked the way his father's car always managed to get to the front of a traffic queue. He had even learned to notice that split second when the world outside would blur, and the car would suddenly be ahead of all the others.

On this clear September the first, however, the car's mysterious power depressed him. He sighed sadly as they pulled into a parking space it had taken them seconds to find. The trip was over all too soon.

"Come on, Liam, we're here!" cried his sister enthusiastically. Tara was twelve years old and appeared to be incapable of communicating at any volume below a shout. In fact, as far as Liam could discern, her conversations with her friends consisted of an equal share of squeals and giggles. "Come on, come on!" she yelled, jumping up and down beside the car.

"Yeah. Coming."

"Oh Liam, stop sulking," snapped Mrs Grady. "We've discussed this a hundred times. I am sorry you have to change schools, but there is just no other way – Hogwarts is..."

"...The only safe place, I know," said Liam in a voice that had taken on a resigned monotone. "The situation is dangerous. My decision to attend a Muggle school makes me a target. Without proper magical training, I can't defend myself. Et cetera, et cetera. I know, Mum. But I don't have to like it."

"Liam, you _will _like it. The best time of my life was at Hogwarts! And you can finally learn some proper magic – you are finally allowed to have your own wand! And you'll make friends in no time, I know you will."

Liam shrugged. "Yeah. Whatever."

Without another word, he heaved his trunk onto a trolley and led the way into King's Cross Station. Once inside, however, he was forced to wait for the others, because he had no idea how to get onto Platform 9 ¾.

Tara, who was now starting her second year at Hogwarts, soon provided the answer. Without even blinking an eye, she charged through the barrier between platforms nine and ten and disappeared.

After getting over his initial surprise, Liam reluctantly followed.

Even in his gloomy state, he was forced to stare in wonder at what was revealed beyond the barrier. Smoke billowed from a great scarlet steam engine, a relic from less environmentally aware times. Hundreds of students, many of them in robes, bustled around the platform. Owls flapped and hooted overhead; a pale, dark-haired girl glided past with a snake draped over her shoulders; a large, extremely ugly toad hopped between Liam's feet. A round-faced boy around Liam's age, who knocked into Liam as he tried to get past, followed the toad. He yelled an apology over his shoulder and ran on in pursuit of his pet.

Tara had already spotted a friend and skipped away, but Liam waited for his parents. They helped him load his and Tara's trunks onto the train, and then returned to the platform to say their final goodbyes. Tara spotted them and came over. Mrs Grady gave her a hug. "Be good," she said. "Look after your brother!"

Tara giggled. "Mum, he's older than me! He should be looking after me!"

Mr Grady laughed. "You heard her, mate. You have to look after your sister now!"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," said Liam grimly. "She squeals loud enough to drive away any monsters, bullies or Death Eaters that even _consider_ giving her a hard time."

"Liam, that wasn't funny," said Mrs Grady sternly. "I know you're not happy to be here, but please try and make the most of it. I'll see you both at Christmas!"

After a final round of hugs and kisses, she let them go. They farewelled Mr Grady and finally boarded the train. A long whistle blew and they were on their way. Liam saw his mother waving as King's Cross Station disappeared behind.

"Liam, Liam, come meet my friends!" squealed Tara. She was bouncing up and down with excitement. Not knowing what else to do, Liam followed her into a crowded, noisy compartment.

"Everyone, this is my brother Liam," announced Tara. "He's new this year. He used to go to a Muggle school!"

This was greeted with such delight, that Liam actually had to cover his ears until the noise subsided. Suddenly, he found himself being bombarded with questions. However, when he proved to be less than forthcoming with answers - mostly because the assembled second-years did not seem to have mastered the art of taking turns to speak - the spotlight gradually moved onto Tara. She was more than willing to supply all the explanations on her brother's behalf. After waiting for a few minutes, Liam excused himself and went in search of a quieter compartment.

Eventually, he found one occupied by just three people: the boy who had knocked into him at the station, and two girls: one with dirty blonde hair and dreamy eyes, the other – a pretty redhead with large brown eyes and freckles on her pale face.

"Can I sit here?" he asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Three pairs of eyes stared at him curiously. The redhead spoke first.

"Sure, come in," she said. "What's your name? I don't think I've met you before."

"You haven't. I'm new," replied Liam as he sat down next to the boy. "My name is Liam Grady."

"I'm Ginny Weasley," she said. "This is Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood," she indicated the boy and the other girl.

Luna Lovegood stared at Liam fixedly. "Aren't you a bit big for a first-year?" she asked vaguely. Ginny stifled a giggle.

"I'm going into sixth year," Liam explained.

At that moment, the compartment door slid open and two more students came in: a tall boy with the exact same shade of red hair as Ginny and a girl with bushy brown hair tied back in a careless ponytail. Both wore badges displaying the letter "P".

"I swear, Malfoy turns into a bigger git every year," growled the boy. "Or every day, more like. You'd think they'd take away his prefect badge after his father got chucked into Azkaban, but no..."

He appeared to notice Liam for the first time. "Who..."

"This is Liam Grady," introduced Ginny. "He's new. Liam, this is my brother Ron, and this is Hermione Granger."

"New? Wow, we've never had a new person before! What year will you be in?"

"Sixth."

"That's our year," said Ron. "Mine and Hermione's, I mean. And Neville's."

"Luna and I are in fifth year," explained Ginny.

"So, which school did you go to before?" asked Hermione. "Durmstrang? Beauxbatons? You don't have an accent..."

"Er, no. I went to a Muggle school."

As with Tara's friends, this announcement was met with gasps of astonishment, though they weren't quite as loud. And this time, Liam felt obliged to offer an explanation.

"Look, I was never really interested in magic," he said. "I went to a Muggle primary school, and I wanted to stay with my friends. And I like a lot of Muggle subjects, which Hogwarts doesn't offer."

He almost had to laugh at their astonished faces.

"But..." said Hermione in a tone of incredulous disbelief, "you're going into sixth year? With no magical training? You haven't even done your O.W.L.s!"

Liam laughed nervously. "Yeah, that took a bit of arguing. But I do know a bit of magic – my mum taught me at home. I lived at home; I had plenty of time after school and during holidays and stuff. They're sort of putting me on probation – if they see that I can't hack it, they'll drop me back to fifth year."

"So... your mum's a witch, then?"

"Yeah. Both my parents are. And my sister – she's here at Hogwarts. She's in second year."

"And... they let you go to a Muggle school?" asked Ron incredulously.

"Well... yeah. I mean, they weren't happy about it, but they didn't want to force me. And – well, to be quite honest with you, I'm not bad at music, and they knew that would go to waste if I went to Hogwarts. That was really the main reason I wanted to go to a Muggle school – because they actually offer music as a subject."

Liam felt a pang of frustration as he thought of his now-discontinued music lessons.

_I'll forget everything I've learnt,_ he thought angrily.

"So why are you coming to Hogwarts now?" asked Ron, interrupting his miserable thoughts.

"Well..." Liam lowered his voice, "Because of Vol... You-Know-Who." He snorted. "Why else? Not safe for a kid like me. Wizard in a Muggle school? Makes me a bit of traitor, doesn't it? At least as far as that lot is concerned. Well... that's my mum's excuse, anyway. Now she's finally forced me to go to Hogwarts."

Liam tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but failed miserably. He felt guilty. "Look, it's nothing against you guys, I'm sure Hogwarts is great and all that, but I didn't want to leave my friends. Or my music. I couldn't even bring my CD player! Surely there has got to be some spell to make Muggle gadgets work in a magical field?"

Hermione pondered this seriously. "You know, I thought about this a couple of years ago, when we were trying to figure out how... oh never mind that, what I wanted to say was, I did come across some spells that might work in your case. If you want, I can look them up for you when we get to school."

"Really? That'd be great! Thanks a lot!"

Liam felt his spirits lift considerably. If Hermione figured out a way to make a CD player work at Hogwarts, his time there would be much more bearable. He had not been looking forward to three months with nothing but the horrible Wizarding Wireless Network to listen to.

The compartment door slid open once again. A dark-haired boy with glasses and brilliant green eyes entered.

"Hi, Harry!" said Neville in a voice that somehow sounded a little too cheerful. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," replied Harry shortly. "Did you have a good holiday, Neville?"

"Yeah, wasn't too bad. I got seven O.W.L.s! I even passed Potions! Can you believe it?"

"Hey, congratulations." Harry's voice had softened.

He turned to Ginny and Ron. "I've just been getting around to all the Gryffindors – Quidditch tryouts tomorrow evening."

"You're Quidditch captain, then?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah. I guess Dumbledore still thinks I'm good for something."

The last was said in a surprisingly bitter tone. Before Liam could wonder about it, however, Harry spotted him. "Who..." he began to ask, then stopped and stared, his eyes widening in surprise. "Liam... Grady?"

Liam nodded, trying to suppress his grin. "Harry Potter. Well, bugger me, it really was you."

Liam had recognised him instantly, of course – it was hard not to, when Harry's face had been plastered all over _The Daily Prophet_ on a regular basis for the past two years. But Liam didn't just know him from newspapers – in his mind's eye he remembered that same face on the skinny frame of a ten-year-old boy, who was standing in a garbage bin while a bunch of other boys laughed and jeered. He remembered a quiet classmate, who never raised his hand or spoke out, who was always looking over his shoulder for his cousin's gang, who never got picked for sports teams, and who disappeared without a trace after primary school ended. It was only when Harry's face graced the pages of the _Prophet_, two years ago now, that Liam had finally made the connection between the shy, nervous boy he had known, and the famous hero, who had defeated the most powerful dark wizard who ever lived.

"What are you doing here?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Going to school, mate. My mum's forced me to go to Hogwarts. 'It's for your own good, Liam!'"

"Yeah, but... blimey! You're a wizard?"

"Unfortunately," said Liam sourly. "But you – I can't believe it really was you, in primary school. Famous Harry Potter and all that. You got bullied like crazy by that Dudley Dursley and his lot! I never would've guessed you were a wizard. I thought the name was just a coincidence." He grinned. "Besides, who would expect to find Harry Potter in a shithole Muggle school?"

Harry was still staring at him in disbelief. "Who would expect to find a _wizard_ in a Muggle school? What on earth were _you _doing there?"

"Learning, of course. It's what schools are for, generally."

"Okay, time out," interrupted Ron. "You two _know _each other?"

"Well," replied Harry, "not _know_ exactly. But we went to the same primary school. We weren't really friends though. I was too busy being bullied like crazy."

Liam felt a twinge of guilt, but he tried to justify himself. "Come on, mate, you can't blame me for not wanting to mess with Dudley. I was even shorter than you were, remember? And I actually picked you for football teams!"

"Yeah, I suppose you were alright," Harry said with a grin. "But I still don't get what you were doing there in the first place. I mean, it was a Muggle school!"

"Yeah, so? It's pretty common for wizards to send their kids to Muggle primary schools. I mean, we have to learn to read and write somewhere, don't we? Of course, I was the only weirdo that actually decided to go to a Muggle high school, as well."

"Wait, wait a second. You _chose _to go to a Muggle high school?"

Liam sighed and explained. He could see himself repeating this explanation over and over again in the next few weeks.

"So, how is old Dudley these days?" he asked when he'd finished. "Still beating the snot out of kids half his size?"

Harry laughed. "Pretty much. No, that's not true, he's been better this year. And he's lost a lot of weight, so he doesn't look _quite _so much like a pregnant hippopotamus..."

There was some laughter around the compartment. "But I can't believe you didn't spot I was a wizard," said Harry to Liam. "Don't you remember the kitchen roof incident?"

Liam did remember. He smiled at the memory of Dudley's gang's astonished faces as their quarry disappeared before their very noses – and appeared on the roof, clinging desperately to the metal chimney. "To be honest with you, I thought I did that. I really hated Dudley's gang, and I felt sorry for you."

"No, that was definitely me. I got into so much trouble for that!"

"Yeah, I got into a bit of trouble in high school because I kept on making things explode. My mum made me practice all sorts of spells until I learned to control it. It came in useful a few times, though!"

"So, which high school did you end up going to?'

"Stonewall."

"Really? I was meant to go there, but then I got the letter from Hogwarts..." he smiled. "Is it true they flush your head down the toilet on your first day?"

"Well," said Liam as a wicked grin spread over his face, "they tried."

"Oh? What happened?"

"Well," said Liam with a snigger, "they got me into the cubicle all right, and forced me down on my knees and all. So here I am, right, face to face with my reflection in a bloody toilet bowl. And I think to myself, if I let them do this to me now, they'll be picking on me for the rest of the year. There has got to be a way out of this!"

"What did you do?" inquired Ginny eagerly.

He had the attention of the entire compartment now. Without noticing himself doing it, he had stood up, and was gesticulating with his arms for full dramatic effect.

"The only thing I could think of," he said. "I took a deep breath and plunged my _own _head into the toilet. Then, before they could react, I yanked my arms free, braced my shoulders against the toilet seat and kicked up with both legs at once. Now that's a pretty hard move to pull off, with or without your head in the toilet, and I paid for it a second later when my knees hit the tiles. But it did the job, because I had managed to kick someone in a _very _sensitive place, and let me tell you, the stuff they were calling me would make your ears wither."

"Did they back off, then?" asked Hermione.

"Haha, not a chance. At least, I strongly doubt that they would have – I mean, they were really pissed now, and there was four of them, and me just a little pipsqueak with my head in the loo. No, I reckon it would have gone really badly for me if my wizard side hadn't chosen that moment to show itself. So, just as one of 'em yanks me out of the toilet by the scruff of my neck, "_Baaarrp!_" goes the toilet and before even I know what's happening, "_Whoosh!_" – vomits up everything that's gone down it for like, the past year. Well, as you can imagine, it was pretty disgusting. We were all covered from head to toe in crap, literally. And there was so much of the stuff, that it oozed right out of the toilet and flooded the entire first floor corridor. Took them weeks to get the smell out. But no one bothered me again, after that."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then the entire compartment erupted with laughter and applause.

"Oh, that is gold," screamed Ron, wiping a tear from his eye. "I don't even care if it's not true, that was one brilliant story! _'Baarrp!'_" he clutched his stomach.

Liam grinned. In fact the story _was_ true, though it did, of course, have a few minor embellishments. Liam was actually feeling good now – the story appeared to have broken some kind of barrier, and he could almost imagine that he was back at Stonewall, fooling around with Davey, Sarah and Jessie. Perhaps Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all.

Soon after, a witch came by with the lunch trolley. Liam didn't have a lot of money, but Harry bought enough cakes and sweets for everybody to share. A little while after this, they were visited by two other sixth-year boys, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. After another round of introductions and explanations, Liam and Dean got into a heated debate about football. This eventually led to the topic of Quidditch, and the question of who would be on the Gryffindor house team. The only person who did not join in this conversation was Luna Lovegood, who as it turned out was the only non-Gryffindor in the compartment. Eventually, she excused herself and left, apparently growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk.

"McGonagall wants me back as Seeker," Harry was saying as the door closed behind Luna. "But if you still want the position, Ginny, we'll have to try out for it... I guess the rest of the team will have to judge..."

"No, no, don't worry, you're the best Seeker we'll ever have!" Ginny reassured him.

Harry blushed. "But you're not bad yourself, and I can't kick you off the team..."

"It's okay, I was going to try out for Chaser, anyway."

As the discussion continued, Liam was struck by a new worry: he did not know how students were sorted into Houses. Tara had refused to tell him, saying it was some kind of test, but that it should be a surprise. Now that Liam had met, and even sort of made friends with these Gryffindors, he wanted to be in the same House as them. But something told him that being sorted wouldn't be quite as simple as asking to go into the House of his choice. He wanted to ask the others about it, but didn't want to butt into the conversation. He decided to wait until the others had finished their discussion. Liam himself had no interest in Quidditch, and could contribute nothing.

"...it's Chasers we really need, though I wouldn't mind some better Beaters than Kirke and Sloper. Ron, you'll stay as Keeper, of course."

Ron's ears turned pink. "I'm not that good," he muttered, though he looked rather pleased. At this comment, the compartment burst into song:

"_Weasley is our king,_

_Weasley is our king,_

_He won't let the Quaffle in,_

_Weasley is out king..."_

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Weasley," drawled a cold voice from the compartment door. "We'll be scraping you off the Quidditch pitch, come our first match."

The intruder was a tall boy with a pale face and silvery-blonde hair. He was flanked by two other boys, both of whom appeared to be a few steps behind on the evolutionary ladder.

"Laugh it up, Malfoy," said Ginny. "You have yet to catch a snitch against Harry."

"I was talking to the _other_ Weasley, Weasley. Keep your mouth shut when I'm not talking to you."

His eyes fell on Liam. "And who are you?"

Liam hesitated. But there seemed no harm in answering, so he began, "My name is Liam Grady. I'm..."

"He's new," interrupted Hermione. "He transferred from Yarrawanga College. In Australia."

"Australia?" said Malfoy coldly. "Where's his accent, then?"

Liam had to think fast. He didn't know why Hermione had lied, but a survival instinct born of five years at Stonewall High told him to play along.

"Oh, I'm English," he said. "I was just living in Australia for a few years because my dad works there. Now he's in Ireland, so I transferred here."

"Really."

Liam could tell that Malfoy was suspicious. The tension in the compartment could have cut diamond. Liam wanted Malfoy to leave.

He narrowed his eyes. He focused on that tension, reached out to the mutual hatred between Malfoy and the assembled Gryffindors. And he turned his own thoughts to fury. _How dare he question me. It's none of his business, where I come from. I don't even want to be here, do I? I haven't even arrived at this school, and I'm already being harassed by this arsehole. Get out, Malfoy. GET THE FUCK OUT!_

The lamp above the compartment door exploded, showering Malfoy and his cronies with glass. Malfoy took a step back in shock, and the compartment door slid shut before their faces. He could hear them trying to open it again, but it would not budge. Eventually, with many a swearword, they retreated.

Everybody was staring at Liam.

"Er..." said Harry, "was that you?"

Liam nodded.

"I thought you'd stopped making things explode?" asked Hermione.

"I said I'd learned to control it. I didn't say I'd stopped."

Liam could feel his face burning. He wanted desperately to change the subject.

"Why did you lie to him?" he asked Hermione.

Ron answered for her. "Look mate, you'd better be careful. I wouldn't spread it around that you went to a Muggle school. Malfoy is a nasty, slimy git and he can give you a very hard time. And I reckon if you keep making things explode like that, you'll get into a lot of trouble – so don't rely on it too much."

A strange, hollow feeling crept into the pit of Liam's stomach. "Oh. Um... thanks for the heads-up – but it'll get out anyway. About me going to a Muggle school, I mean. My sister has told all her friends, and with that lot... it's a wonder the whole school doesn't know by now."

"Liam... this is bad," said Hermione flatly.

"Look, there's nothing I can do about it now. But I'll be all right. Stonewall High is one of the toughest schools in England – I'm sure this Malfoy can't be as bad as some of the apes we had there. I'll be all right."

He had managed to sound confident, but his new classmates were clearly not convinced. And, as the train rolled closer to Hogwarts and dusk gathered outside, Liam was forced to admit that he was trying to reassure himself as much as them.


	2. Refugees

**2. Refugees**

"Firs' years! Firs' years and new students, this way!"

Harry grinned and waved as Hagrid ushered the scared-looking eleven-year-olds towards the boats. Hagrid waved back, and called out, "Hi, Harry!" Then he shouted again: "Firs' years and new students, this way!"

Harry noticed the addition to Hagrid's usual call. _First years and _new students

"Guess that means me," said Liam with a weak smile. "I'll see you guys later, I guess."

"Hey... good luck," said Harry.

Liam nodded. "Thanks," he said, and turned to follow the light of Hagrid's lamp.

Ron called out after him, "Hope you get into Gryffindor!"

"You shouldn't say that, Ron," chided Hermione as they began to make their way out of Hogsmeade Station. "He should get sorted into the house that best suits him."

"Well... as long as it's not Slytherin..."

Harry snorted at this absurd notion. "A wizard who _chose_ to go to a Muggle school?" he said with a laugh. "No, I don't think he's Slytherin material, do you?"

"Technically, Harry," said Hermione sternly, "Slytherins are chosen because they are cunning and ambitious – not because they hate Muggles."

"Hah! Tell that to the Slytherins," said Ron, rolling his eyes.

They rounded a bend in the road and approached the stagecoaches, which would take them on the last leg of their journey to Hogwarts. The sight of the Thestrals, which drove the coaches, brought to Harry a memory of clinging to the animal's skeletal flanks, rushing through the air with terror gnawing at his stomach...

He pushed the memory away. He didn't like where it led.

For a while, the shock of seeing Liam Grady on the Hogwarts Express had driven away the leaden weight, which had settled in Harry's stomach after that night at the Department of Mysteries. Now his feelings of despair, grief and helplessness threatened to overwhelm him once again, and he desperately wanted to take his mind in a different direction.

"I wonder how Liam will go in class?" he said. "I can't imagine going into sixth year when he's never studied magic..."

Hermione frowned. "I think it is wrong not to train wizards properly."

Harry was a little surprised to hear this from Hermione.

"I thought you'd be all for wizards being allowed to choose?"

"Yeah, Hermione," said Ron, looking as perplexed as Harry felt. "And okay, he's a nutter because he went to a Muggle school, but if that's what he wanted, why should he be forced to learn magic?"

"Because it's dangerous not to," Hermione snapped. "No one should be making things explode at the age of sixteen."

"He said he could control it!"

"I'm not sure I believe him. I mean, I'm sure he thinks he's telling the truth, but I just wonder _how much_ control he really has."

"Still, he seems okay," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's not a bad sort – he was one of the few people who was actually nice to me in primary school."

"I'm not saying he's a bad sort, Harry – though I haven't known him long enough to really know – but I am saying that he could get into serious trouble if he doesn't learn to control his magic properly. And at the age of sixteen, it might be too late."

---

Liam made a surprising discovery as he followed Hagrid and the first-years to the boats: he wasn't the only older student who was new at Hogwarts. Two other figures hung behind the crowd of eleven-year-olds. The younger of the two was a girl called Sylvia Rodney, who was starting third year. Like Liam, she had previously gone to a Muggle school. The other student was going into fifth year. His name was Jeremy Leighton, and he had been taught magic at home by a private tutor.

"My tutor quit because of the war," he said. He did not offer any clearer explanation of his tutor's departure. "And my parents don't trust anyone else to give me a proper education, so I have to come to Hogwarts."

He said this in the same tone other people might use to say, "I have to clean the toilets."

"Well, I am really hopeless at magic," admitted Sylvia. "I'm practically a Squib, which is why my parents thought I'd be better off in a Muggle school. But now they're afraid for me because of the war, so they said I should go here after all." She looked quite miserable at the prospect. "I bet I'm going to be terrible at everything."

_Jesus, I thought I had it tough,_ thought Liam. He was worried about how he would be able to cope with Hogwarts when he had so little magical training behind him – but at least he knew that he had a decent amount of power. He could make things happen – all he had to do was learn the correct spells. This girl not only had to go into third year after going to a Muggle school, but she also had nothing in the way of natural talent. Liam suddenly felt extremely sorry for her, and wanted to say something to make her feel better.

"But you know, not all subjects require you to actually _do _magic," he told her, trying to sound reassuring. "Some of them are just theory subjects, like History of Magic. And Potions is basically like cooking, as far as I can tell."

"I'm terrible at cooking, too," said Sylvia miserably.

Liam decided to stop talking.

As the boats glided across the lake, Sylvia asked the question that had been plaguing Liam's mind: "Do you know how we get sorted into Houses?"

Liam cursed himself silently for forgetting to ask on the train. Jeremy, however, had not been so idle.

"It's a test," he said with an air of somebody revealing a juicy piece of gossip. "They tell you to do a bit of magic, and you get judged on how well you do it. The best students go into Slytherin, the worst in Hufflepuff."

"I'll be in Hufflepuff," said Sylvia gloomily.

Liam, however, was suspicious. "No way, that doesn't sound right at all. I thought the Houses were supposed to be equal! And that kind of test would be really unfair – Muggle-born students have never done magic before, they'd be at a huge disadvantage!"

"Muggle-borns?" Jeremy snorted. "Well, they're not much good anyway, are they? That's why only pure-bloods make it into Slytherin."

But Liam was having none of it. He was sure now that Jeremy was either lying, or repeating a lie somebody else had told him. "That's bollocks, mate, and you should know better than to believe it – or to try fool other people if you're the one making it up. My sister is pure-blood and she's in Hufflepuff – and let me tell you, she is one hell of a good witch."

Liam did not normally praise Tara, but he was finding Jeremy increasingly annoying. And he felt sorry for Sylvia, who appeared to be getting more miserable by the minute.

"Look, don't worry about it," he told her. "I honestly don't think the test can be that hard. I mean, all first-years have to do it, and some of them have never done any magic before at all! And I don't think any of the Houses is better than any other –they're just different, that's all."

In fact, Liam was nowhere near as confident as he sounded. He wished that he had asked about the Sorting ceremony, and about the Houses. Now his stomach was busily tying itself into knots. He wished he were back at Stonewall. He would be at home now, having dinner with his parents. Afterwards, he would probably settle down on the couch to watch some TV, or go into his room and play his keyboards. Maybe he'd call Jessie and they'd chat for an hour or two – Jess was always eager to talk. He sighed wistfully and looked up at the castle that now loomed above him. It would be more than three months before he'd be able to speak to any of his friends again.

They climbed out of the boats in a dark underground harbour, and followed Hagrid up to the castle's front doors. They were greeted there by a tall, stern-looking witch.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "My name is Professor McGonagall. The Sorting Ceremony will commence shortly. The first years will have their names called out in alphabetical order. The older students will be called after them, in order of age. The oldest student will go last. Is that understood?"

The students nodded nervously. _Great, _thought Liam. _I'm going to have to wait for _everybody_. Just my luck to have to go last._

"They are ready for you now," announced Professor McGonagall, and led the way into the Great Hall.

For a few seconds, Liam forgot all his fears and misgivings, as he gazed around the Hall in wonder. He took in the four long tables, the floating candles and the enchanted ceiling (a black sky dotted with stars and a pale crescent moon). Then his gaze fell on a three-legged stool, which had been placed at the far end of the Hall, just in front of the staff table. There was hat on the stool. It seemed a rather odd object to be placed in this place of honour. But before Liam could wonder any more about this, a rip opened in the hat's brim, and it began to sing:

"Another year, another lot 

_Of students big and small_

_Who have arrived because they heard_

_Historic Hogwarts' call._

_They'll be divided once again_

_House rivalries will start_

_And sadly it is still my job_

_To keep them all apart._

_So here is how it always works:_

_You'll be split into four._

_If you are a courageous soul, _

_You'll be in Gryffindor._

_The hardworking and loyal ones_

_Belong in Hufflepuff_

_And to be placed in Ravenclaw,_

_A good mind is enough._

_The Slytherins are cunning folk_

_Ambition is their trait._

_These are the Houses of our school,_

_Now let's decide your fate!_

_In which House will you find your home?_

_That's up to me to say._

_Now go ahead and put me on._

_I haven't got all day!_

The Sorting Hat's new song was received with the usual applause – but also a lot of muttering. At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"Is it just me," said Ron, "or did the Sorting Hat sound like it was _pissed off_?"

Liam, on the other hand, had barely noticed the Sorting Hat's tone. He was too busy worrying. _If the Hat sorts people by their character, _he reasoned, _then it must be able to see inside their heads somehow._ He was not sure why, but he found this thought extremely disquieting.

Beside him, Jeremy stuck his hands in his pockets and stared fixedly at the stage, where "Cain, Rosaline" was trying on the Sorting Hat. After a few seconds, Rosaline was sorted into Ravenclaw, and was replaced by "Cook, Jason". Jeremy looked grim, but determined.

Turning his attention to Sylvia, Liam was surprised to see that she was smiling. She noticed him looking, and said happily, "It's okay! All we have to do is try on the hat! I was so worried."

Liam smiled back, but his own worries remained. To him, trying on the Hat did not seem like such a harmless experience.

Eventually, the line of first-years dwindled. "Yockey, Helen" was sorted into Hufflepuff. A hush fell over the Great Hall, as all eyes turned to Sylvia, Jeremy and Liam.

Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat. "As you all might have noticed," he announced, "this year we have some older students, who will be joining our school. They will be sorted like the first years. I hope that their new Houses will make them feel welcome. Professor McGonagall, proceed, please."

McGonagall looked at her parchment. "Rodney, Sylvia!" she read. "Sylvia will be starting third year."

"Good luck," whispered Liam as Sylvia walked towards the stage. She sat down on the stool and put on the hat.

"_HUFFLEPUFF!_"

Sylvia got up, smiling, and walked over to the Hufflepuff table. On the way, she turned and gave Liam a small wave. Liam tried to steady his nerves.

"Leighton, Jeremy. Jeremy will be in fifth year."

Jeremy smoothed out his shiny black hair before putting on the hat. With him, it took longer to decide, and many long seconds passed before the hat finally yelled out, "_SLYTHERIN!_"

_Well, I hope he's happy, _thought Liam darkly.

"And finally, our new sixth year student. Grady, Liam!"

Liam ran a hand through his messy brown hair, and walked up to the stool. It was time to face the test. He took a deep breath, and put on the hat.

"Well, well," said a voice. "Another refugee, eh? A little older, a little wiser, perhaps? Hmm. Well, you have a good mind, right enough, and a bit of courage too, I see. A hard worker _and _a loyal friend. And ambitious! Though perhaps, not for magic, eh? You're a tough one to crack, Liam Grady. Where would you _like _to go?"

Watching Liam anxiously from the Gryffindor table, Harry muttered, "What's taking it so long?" It had been a full minute since Liam had put on the hat.

"It's got to be harder to decide with an older student," said Hermione, though she also sounded concerned.

"Yes, it always takes a while, with the refugees," said Nearly Headless Nick, appearing suddenly above the table.

"Refugees?"

"That's what we call them," said Nick. "It always happens in times of strife – there's an influx of students into Hogwarts. Parents, who for some reason didn't chose to send their children here before, become worried and send them here for protection. Didn't you find it strange that you had never had a new student before, and suddenly there are three?"

"Refugees," said Hermione. "Forced to come here because it's a safe haven. Is it really that safe, Nick?"

"Bad things have happened at Hogwarts, of course," he replied. "But it has always been the last refuge. If a great evil takes over the world, I think this will be the last place to fall."

They were distracted by the Sorting Hat, which had finally reached a decision. "_GRYFFINDOR!_" it yelled, and Liam tore it off his head as if it was a bee's nest. He practically ran to the Gryffindor table.

"Can you believe it?" he said, as Hermione made a space for him between herself and Neville. "It actually _asked _me where I wanted to go! I mean, I thought it had to judge your personality?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, maybe where you choose to be placed _is _a reflection of your personality?"

Liam thought about this. "But I didn't choose to go in Gryffindor because I was brave. I just wanted to be with people I knew – however vaguely." He grinned at Harry. "Hope you lot don't mind a new Gryffindor."

At this everybody shook their heads, and began slapping Liam on the back, congratulating him on making it into their House. He barely managed to eat that night, as he was bombarded with questions all throughout dinner. Liam didn't mind, however – now that the ordeal of the Sorting was over, he was more than happy to try and get to know his new classmates. All in all, he was feeling a good deal better about coming to Hogwarts than he had that morning.

When dinner was finished, the fifth year prefects called over all the first years, so that they could take them to Gryffindor Tower. Liam was not sure whether he should follow them, until Ron said, "Come on, we can show you the way. No need to follow the firsties."

Liam did his best to remember the stairs, doorways and hidden passages, but arrived at Gryffindor Tower knowing he would be hopelessly lost the moment he tried to walk around the castle without a guide. However, he was in a good mood now and didn't let it worry him. He was sure he would know his way around soon enough.

When the sixth year boys finally reached their dormitory, they found that an extra four-poster bed had been placed in the room. The dormitory had obviously expanded to make space for it, as it did not appear to be any more cramped than it had been before – but it was also still in the same place. In fact, it was still the exact same room. They knew this because "Draco Malfoy is a horse's arse" was still scratched into the wall above Ron's bed, in Ron's very distinct handwriting.

They explained all this to Liam, but he refused to think about it. The thought of such a gross violation of the laws of physics gave him a headache. He concentrated on unpacking his trunk instead.

He had brought many books with him, Muggle books as well as his Hogwarts textbooks. He did not want to lose touch with the Muggle world. He picked out "Good Omens", an old favourite, to read in bed, leaving the rest in the trunk. He also took out his photos of his friends and family and stuck them on the wall. They were a mixture of still, fixed Muggle photos and animated magical ones. Liam led a strange life.

Above the photos, Liam stuck his posters of U2, Pearl Jam and the Arsenal football team. Dean glared at him and muttered something offensive as he put up his own poster of West Ham.

"You two are insane," said Ron matter-of-factly. "I can't believe that you can still like football after seeing a game of Quidditch."

"It's a game of skill, Ron," said Liam. "Most wizards don't understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron sounded hurt.

"Nothing," said Liam quickly. "I just meant that wizards don't understand the Muggle world – it's sad, I think."

As he said this, his hand touched the violin case, which was buried under his clothes in the trunk. He pulled it out and opened it, just to check that his instrument had survived the journey. He ran his fingers along the strings and smiled.

He'd been told that nothing electric would work at Hogwarts, so he he'd been forced to leave behind his guitar, his CD player and his beloved keyboards. He had also been forced to leave behind a lot of his clothes, because the violin and the books took up most of the space in his trunk. Liam thought it was worth it. He was born a wizard, but he had chosen the life of a Muggle. He'd been welcomed at Hogwarts, and he'd made new friends, but he was still an alien in this strange, secret world. It was comforting to have these few small things, which still connected him to the world he knew.


	3. Nerves of Adamant

**3. Nerves of Adamant**

The rest of Liam's clothes arrived at breakfast the next morning, along with an exasperated note from his mother.

"_Honestly, Liam, were you planning on wearing the same T-shirt all year? I suppose you will suffer a nervous breakdown if you are parted from any of your precious books, but wearing the same pair of underwear three days in a row does not bother you one tiny bit. I suppose it is too much to ask that my sixteen-year-old son might actually be able to pack his trunk without my help." _

Liam stowed the bulky package under the table and returned to his porridge. As a rule, Liam ate a lot in the mornings, and after the poor dinner he had had the previous night, he was ravenous. He did not understand how some people could skip breakfast: Liam didn't feel entirely human until he'd filled his belly. Liam ate breakfast no matter how upset, worried, sick or late he was. His mother often said that Liam would ignore the Apocalypse, if it came while he was eating.

He could not, however, ignore Ron poking him repeatedly in the arm, asking "Liam. Hey, Liam. I'm talking to you, mate!"

Liam swallowed another mouthful before he finally responded. "What?"

"Timetables." Ron handed over Liam's.

"What subjects are you taking?" asked Harry.

Liam took a bite of buttered toast. "I in't 'et 'uch 'oice, eely..."

Across the table, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Great – another one that tries to talk and eat at the same time."

Liam swallowed and stuck out his tongue, which was mercifully free of food.

"Well, _honestly_," huffed Hermione indignantly.

Liam grinned. "As I was _saying_, I didn't really get much choice about what subjects I could do. They pretty much told me I have to do Charms and Transfiguration, because they are," - he put on a stern voice remarkably similar to McGonagall's - "'The fundamentals of magical education!' Then I have to do Defence against the Dark Arts, because, well, it should be pretty obvious, really. So after that I got to choose two electives, so I'm doing Muggle Studies and Potions."

"Ohh... bad move, mate!" Ron exclaimed. "The Potions master is a nightmare. He's head of Slytherin, and he's totally unfair. If he decides he doesn't like you, you'll never pass."

_That doesn't sound promising,_ Liam thought. "I don't think I can change it now," he said tensely. "I chose it because it doesn't require any actual spellwork, and it sounded sort of interesting."

Hermione beamed. "Good for you, Liam! I must admit, Snape is not very nice..." – Harry and Ron snorted at this – "...but it really is a fascinating subject. And Muggle Studies must be interesting from your perspective!"

"Oh no, I just chose that because I figured it'd be easy."

Hermione looked disappointed.

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and a young woman with spiky blue hair collided with Professor McGonagall. "Sorry... I'm... late..." panted the woman. "I... thought... today... was... yesterday!"

McGonagall folded her arms and looked at the woman sternly. "Professor Tonks. We were wondering where you were last night. You'd better go see Albus, and be quick about it! You first class begins in ten minutes."

Professor Tonks' eyes widened in horror. "Sweet Merlin's underpants!" she blurted, and sprinted out of the Hall.

Ron, Hermione and Harry exchanged excited glances. "Tonks!" Ron exclaimed. "She must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher! Excellent!"

"You guys know her?" asked Liam curiously.

"Yeah," said Ron. "She's an Auror. And she's in the Or..." he cut off. Liam looked at him expectantly, but Ron did not say any more – he just blushed a deep crimson. Feeling a little put out, Liam rose without another word, and left to search for his Muggle Studies classroom.

When he was gone, Hermione turned on Ron. "You shouldn't have mentioned the Order! Now he knows we're hiding something from him, _and _he's offended."

"Well, I didn't mean to offend him, did I?" Now Ron was angry, too. "Come on, Harry. We've got Care for Magical Creatures."

"See you later, Hermione," said Harry, in a half-hearted attempt to keep the peace.

---

Liam got hopelessly lost on his way to class, and as a result arrived ten minutes late. He stumbled into the classroom, interrupting the teacher's lecture.

"Sorry I'm late," he gasped. "I got lost."

The Muggle Studies professor, however, was an amiable young man and did not reprimand him. "You must be Liam," he said. "My name is Professor Downie. Please take a seat – we were just discussing the Muggle system of government."

Liam nodded and sat down next to a girl who was by herself. She looked startled when he did so, but gave him a quick, frightened smile.

"As I was saying," Professor Downie continued, "The Muggle government is divided into groups called _political parties_." He wrote the term on the board. "The country is divided into regions, called _electorates_. Each electorate counts as a _seat_..."

Liam began to tune out. He had learnt this in Social Studies at Stonewall, though he didn't remember it very well. The topic had bored him then, and it was no more exciting coming from a wizard. Liam turned his attention to the girl next to him.

She had reddish-brown hair, which she had tied back in a plait. The plait struggled to hold it all in and random frizzy bits stuck out at odd angles. Her face had a few spots and she was slightly overweight. However, apart from that, Liam thought she was quite pretty.

The girl looked up from her book and noticed Liam staring at her. He quickly turned to look out the window.

The view was stunningly beautiful. Liam had lived in the city his entire life, and had rarely seen the countryside. The land around Hogwarts, however, was somehow more than just _countryside_. The mountains surrounding the castle rose to graceful, snow-capped peaks. At that hour of the morning, the slopes were still shrouded in shadow, but a single shaft of golden light penetrated through a gap between two peaks, and lit up the velvety canopy of the Forbidden Forest. Liam wished he could open the window and take a breath of the fresh air. He made a mental note to get up early the next morning and go for a walk in the Hogwarts grounds.

He was startled out of his reverie by a nudge from his desk-mate. He looked up and realised the entire class was staring at him.

"Please, Mr Grady," said Professor Downie, "I know that you are new, but that doesn't give you the right to daydream in my class. Don't make me take away House points. Please try to concentrate."

Liam sighed and tried to obey.

It was no use – he just couldn't force himself to be interested in Muggle politics. Soon he was staring out the window again.

He felt another nudge. Thinking he'd been caught daydreaming again, he quickly looked up at Professor Downie, but realised that the teacher was not paying him any attention. Then Liam looked down at his desk and saw a scrap of parchment.

"Don't worry, he never actually takes House points. He always says he will, but never does."

He looked at the frizzy-haired girl next to him and gave her a quick smile. She smiled back. Liam turned over the parchment and scribbled,

"_What's your name?"_

The girl scribbled back,

"Eloise Midgen" 

Liam replied:

"Liam Grady" "I know. Everyone's been talking about you. Is it true you went to a Muggle school?" 

"_Yes. Don't spread it around, though."_

"_I think everyone knows. Sorry! So, this must be really easy for you, then?"_

Liam grinned at her.

"_To be honest with you, I found this stuff dead boring when they taught it to us at my old school, and it's still dead boring now!"_ He drew an unhappy face on the parchment.

Eloise smiled.

"If Miss Midgen and Mister Grady have finished passing notes, I would like to tell you all about your assignment!" said Professor Downie, causing Liam to drop his pen and Eloise to blush furiously.

"You will write me a two-foot essay on the process by which Muggles elect a Prime Minister. You will hand it to me in two weeks time. And may I suggest, though I doubt you'll listen, that you start this assignment _now_, before you are overwhelmed with other work!"

On cue, the bell rang, and the students filed out the room. Liam tried to talk to Eloise, but face to face, she became strangely shy, and blushed every time she caught him looking at her. After a while, Liam gave up, and they walked along in silence until they reached the castle's main stairwell.

"Well, I have to go down to the dungeons – that is where Potions classes are, isn't it?" said Liam, in a final attempt to get Eloise to talk. The girl nodded mutely, then stammered, "See you," and stumbled off down a side corridor.

Liam shook his head as he watched her go. "Self-esteem issues," he muttered. He couldn't dawdle any longer – he still had to find the right dungeon.

Luckily, when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he spotted Neville Longbottom walking away from him. Liam jogged to catch up.

"Hey, Neville!" he called out. Neville stopped to wait for him.

"Are you looking for the Potions room?" Neville asked.

"Yeah. Do you do Potions too?"

"Yeah, come on, I'll show you where it is."

Liam searched for something to say. "So... what other subjects do you do?"

"Transfiguration, Defence and Charms. And Herbology." Neville smiled. "You?"

Liam told him. "I thought of doing Herbology," he said. "But I really just wanted to have one easy subject, so I chose Muggle Studies instead."

"Is that what you just had?"

Liam nodded.

"How was it?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Boring," he said. "I spent the lesson writing notes to the girl next to me."

"Oh yeah? Who?" A mischievous grin flashed across Neville's face.

"Not _those _kind of notes! Eloise something. Frizzy hair."

There was a shout of laughter behind them. Ron came up and clapped Liam on the shoulder. "Eloise Midgen? Hah! Liam, mate, you can do better than that!"

Liam snorted. "Honestly, some things are the same the world over. I talk to a girl in class and suddenly it's like we're shagging under the desk or something!"

Harry, who'd been walking beside Ron, sniggered. "Yeah, tell me about it. You should've heard the stuff Ron said to Hermione when she went to the Yule Ball with Victor Krum..."

Ron glowered. Harry grinned.

They reached the Potions dungeon. Ron sat down next to Harry, and Neville with Hermione. Liam couldn't see anyone else he knew, so he headed for the empty desk behind them. However, he was stopped by the cold voice of the Potions Master: "Not so fast, Grady. I want you here at the front where I can keep an eye on you. You too, Longbottom."

Liam moved to the front desk with Neville. He groaned when he realised that sitting at the desk next to theirs was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Liam had been at Hogwarts for less than a day, and already he knew this was bad news.

"Right, then," announced the Professor Snape in a clipped tone. "Welcome to Advanced Potions. This is a subtle, delicate art, which requires both hard work and intelligence – a quality, which most of you do not possess. Normally, I do not accept anybody into this class who has not achieved an 'Outstanding' in their O.W.L.s. However, due to certain... circumstances," he sneered, "I have been forced to lower my standards." He looked over at Harry, Ron, Neville and finally Liam. "Grady!" he barked suddenly. "Tell me, what are the properties of Bubotuber pus?"

Liam was shocked. Surely this man didn't expect him to answer questions on his very first day? Liam racked his brain desperately. He had heard the substance mentioned before, but where?

A memory stirred – a letter from Tara several months ago. "_I HATE!!! Jason Ingle, he is a mean, horrible RAT! Yesterday, I had to go to the hospital wing because he smeared Bubotuber pus on my quills and my hands came up in burns and boils..."_

"Umm... It burns and um... gives you boils."

"Grady, perhaps you have not been taught basic etiquette, but when I ask you a question, you will address me as "Sir". Now let's try that again. What are the properties of Bubotuber pus?"

"It gives you boils. And it burns. Sir."

"Is that all?"

"That's all I know. Sir."

"You should know, Grady," said Snape in a dangerously soft voice, "that I expect a very high standard of work from my students. And that means_ knowing the basic properties of simple potion ingredients. _Do you have a textbook, Grady?"

Liam's heart was pounding with indignation, but he forced out a "Yes, sir," and even held up the book to prove to Snape that he had it.

"If you had actually opened it before coming to class, Grady, you might have noticed that in the back, there is an extensive glossary of potion ingredients. I expect _all_ my students to be familiar with the properties of these substances. I expect _you_ to know them by this time next week. I will be testing you. Is that clear?"

With a sinking feeling, Liam flipped through his book until he found the glossary. It went on for over twenty pages. "Yes. Sir," he said quietly, though he knew that learning it by next week was impossible.

"Right," said Snape, turning his attention to the rest of the class. "I am certain that most of you have by now forgotten what little you learned over the past year. So, just to remind you of the standard of work I expect in this class, today we will be making a potion, which is used to treat acne. It does not take long to make, so a single period should be enough. However, it requires precision and accuracy, as the slightest mistake will make it poisonous. Since it's the first day back, I will allow you the entire double to work on it – but don't expect any more such concessions in the future. The instructions are on page thirty-seven of your textbook. Get started."

Liam took a deep breath and counted to ten. He needed to concentrate, which would be impossible if he was angry.

"Bad luck," said Neville sympathetically. "Snape is really horrible to all the Gryffindors, but he usually picks on Harry more than anyone else."

"Looks like he's found himself a new target, doesn't it?" said Liam bitterly. "Jesus, this would be hard enough without a biased teacher..."

"Yeah. I reckon I'd be alright at Potions, if it wasn't for him. I always got bad marks in his class, but I got an 'E' in my O.W.L.s. It was all so much easier when I didn't have him breathing down my neck!"

"Grady and Longbottom, you should be adding ingredients to your cauldron by now. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Liam gritted his teeth and began chopping herbs. He was starting to realise that he would need nerves of steel to get through this class.

"Hey, Grady," hissed Draco Malfoy beside him. "Don't they teach you Potions in Australia?"

_Bugger steel,_ thought Liam. _I'm gonna need nerves of adamant._

"Yeah, they do," he said. "Only they call it 'cooking'."

"Still talking, Grady?" Snape's voice echoed around the room. "Let's make that another ten points from Gryffindor."

Liam tried to concentrate on his potion. Malfoy, however, appeared to be exempt from Snape's rules, and continued to talk in a derisive sneer. "I heard a very interesting thing about you, Grady. Wanna know what I heard?"

Liam didn't reply, but Draco told him anyway. "I heard you're not really from Australia. I heard you actually went to a Muggle school. What's a Muggle doing at Hogwarts, Grady? Or perhaps you're not a Muggle. No, you're not, are you? Because, hopeless as you are, you _can_ do magic. Don't think I don't know how that lamp exploded, Grady. But if you're a wizard, you must've been offered a place at Hogwarts. And you chose not to go. You're a disgrace to the name of wizard, Grady. You're a traitor. And now that the Dark Lord has returned, he will rid this world of all Muggles, Mudbloods and _traitors._ I'd watch my back if I were you, Grady. If he catches you – the Dark Lord has no mercy. It'll take you so long to die..."

"Yeah. A lifetime," Liam snapped. "That's how long it takes most people." Luckily, Snape's attention was elsewhere, and this retort didn't lose Gryffindor any more House points.

Malfoy's eyes, however, were narrowed in rage. "You'll wish you'd never been born, by the time he's through with you!"

"How very original, Malfoy. Now please. Shut the fuck up."

Liam had mastered his emotions over the past few minutes, and had enough control to only let out a tiny amount of power.

Malfoy's cauldron tipped over. It's simmering contents splashed over Malfoy's desk and onto Pansy Parkinson's robes. Pansy shrieked and started waving her arms frantically. "It burns! It burns!" she screamed.

"Mr Malfoy, please take Miss Parkinson to the hospital wing," said Snape. "As this was clearly an accident, you will not have to do today's work."

He looked over at Liam, but there was no way the "accident" could be traced back to him. Liam's desk was far enough away from Malfoy's that he couldn't possibly have reached over and tipped the cauldron. And his wand was tucked away in his bag, safely out of reach.

Snape glowered. "Clean up the potion, Grady."

Liam clenched his fists in frustration. After knowing him for twenty minutes, he already hated Snape with a passion. He'd attacked Liam for no apparent reason whatsoever. This was more than just picking on a student: this was _war_.

_And I'll be buggered if I let him win_, thought Liam defiantly.

After cleaning up Malfoy's spilt potion, he worked in silence for the rest of the lesson, determined that his potion would be up to standard. When the bell finally rang at the end of the double period, he was pleased to see that it was the right colour and consistency. But he was fuming when he walked out of class.

"I've never seen him attack anyone like that," said Harry sympathetically as they walked towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Except me, of course."

"You handled it really well, Liam," said Hermione, sounding impressed.

"Yeah. You've got nerves of steel, mate," said Ron, slapping Liam on the back. "I mean, so do you, Harry," he added quickly. "But you've been dealing with his crap for years. Liam was totally unprepared."

Liam shook his head. "It's war. That's what it is. And I'm going to fight it."

Ron stared at him incredulously. "_How_?"

Liam smiled humourlessly. "I'm going to learn that glossary. I don't care if I have to go without sleep for the whole week, I'm going to learn it."

"But... that's impossible!"

"You'll be surprised," said Liam through clenched teeth, "at what turns out to be possible when you really put your mind to it!"


	4. The Phoenix Propaganda Team

**4. The Phoenix Propaganda Team**

Liam began his task immediately, reading through the information on the first listed potion ingredient over lunch. After watching him for a little while, Hermione couldn't resist any longer. "Listen, Liam..." she said, "how are you planning on going about this?"

"What do you mean, how? By memorising every bloody ingredient in that glossary, one by one. How else?"

"Yeah, but look, you don't need to do them in order, do you? Here, look: Snape's told us that we're making a sleeping potion next lesson, right?"

"Yeah, that's right..."

"Well... here..." she took his textbook and flipped through until she found the page with the recipe for the sleeping potion. "Look at the ingredients for this potion. You'll need to know them for next lesson. Knowing Snape, he's bound to ask you about them. If you don't answer, he'll say you haven't prepared for his class, and take away House points. So, learn these ingredients first."

"Oh. That's a good idea, thanks."

He thought back to the Potions lesson. "Why the hell did he take such an instant dislike to me? I mean, I know you said he was mean, Ron, but he seems to hate me especially! And I've never even met him before!"

Hermione answered, "I think it's because he's annoyed at having to take you into his class. He was already angry, because Dumbledore forced him to take students with lower than "Outstanding" marks– and then he also got saddled with a student who hasn't even _done_ the O.W.L.'s."

"Well, I can't help that, can I?" said Liam, exasperated. "You know, when my mum enrolled me, she asked if I'd need to take the O.W.L.'s to get into sixth year. She got an owl back saying that normally I would, but the school and the Ministry couldn't spare the resources to give me a private exam. They said I'd have to go into fifth year. But I was really pissed off about that, so I owled them myself telling them how I was a good student, and I'd work hard and all that, so they said they'd give me a chance."

"Well, your actual potion was pretty good," said Hermione. "You just need to learn the theory, that's all."

"Yeah... Well, I guess I'd better get started on this glossary, then. There's eighty-seven ingredients here. If I learn ten a day, plus a few extra on the weekend, I should be able to get it all done in time."

"Good luck," said Ron. "You're gonna need it."

---

Harry was looking forward to the afternoon class: it would be a double period of Defence Against the Dark Arts. He couldn't wait to see what Tonks would be like as a teacher. Of course, after Umbridge, even Snape would be an improvement, but Harry was certain that the young Auror would be _much_ better than that. He was therefore very eager to get to her class, and led the way, chatting to Ron about what they thought Tonks might teach them. Liam trailed behind them as Hermione quizzed him on the properties of Mandrake roots.

When they arrived, Tonks was sitting on the teacher's desk. She greeted them warmly as they came in.

"How's it going?" asked Harry.

"Well, it started bad because, well, you saw me arrive this morning, but all things considered, it's been alright! So far, so good!" She leaned over and said in a whisper, "My first lesson was fifth-year Slytherins. Can you imagine such bad luck? I had Ravenclaws after that, though, and they were alright."

Harry gave her the thumbs up and took a seat at the front of the room. Gradually, the class filled up.

"Okay, is everyone here?" said Tonks, clapping her hands in a business-like manner. "Let's get started." She looked over the class. For most other subjects, sixth year classes were composed of a mixture of students from all the Houses. However, as Defence Against the Dark Arts was considered to be an extremely important subject, so many students chose it that they still had to be split up into House groups. This year, the Gryffindors shared Defence Against the Dark Arts with the Ravenclaws.

"My name is Tonks," said Tonks. "Now, my official title at this school is 'Professor Tonks', which makes me sound about fifty years old instead of twenty-three, which is what I am. Anyway, it seems a bit presumptuous to force you guys to call me 'Professor', when I'm only a few years older than you! So it's Tonks, please. Now, what I actually am is an Auror, but Dumbledore asked me to take on this job, and who can argue with Dumbledore, eh? Anyway, I thought I'd give it a shot, and it's kinda fun being back at Hogwarts again. Anyway... I'm sorry to say that Defence Against the Dark Arts does involve a lot of theory. I'll be teaching you various defensive spells and counter-spells, but to perform them properly, you will need to know the magical theory behind them. I'll also go into some more advanced Dark Arts theory, because you gotta understand how Dark Magic forms and spreads. You'll learn a lot more about Dark Magic than you've been allowed to in the past – be warned, some of this stuff is pretty disturbing. But you're old enough now to be able to handle it."

She had the full attention of the class now. Harry looked around and saw that everybody was looking eager and anxious to get started. Only Neville's face revealed feelings similar to Harry's own: uncertainty and a trace of fear. The two boys were the only people in the class, who had suffered a close enough brush with the Dark Arts to know that it wasn't a topic to be taken lightly.

"All right, then, let's begin. I think the first thing anyone intending to fight the Dark Arts needs to know is, what exactly are 'Dark Arts'? Where do we draw the line between 'light' and 'dark' magic?" She drew a line down the middle of the blackboard, dividing it into two. On one side, she wrote "Light Magic", on the other, "Dark Magic". "So, what do you think? What distinguishes the darkness from the light?"

The class was silent. After a few seconds, Hermione raised her hand. "Dark Magic is performed with the intent of harming someone."

"Very good," said Tonks, writing "intent to harm" under "Dark Magic" on the blackboard. "But it's not quite so simple. For example, Love Potions are classified as Dark Magic. Anyone know why?"

This time, to everybody's surprise, it was Liam who raised his hand first. "I'm just guessing here, but I think anything that forces somebody to do something against their will is classified Dark Magic."

"Excellent. Now, tell me this, Mr..."

"Liam Grady."

"Liam. Is Veritaserum Dark Magic?"

Liam thought about it. "I don't know," he said finally. "It seems like it should be, but it's not illegal, is it?"

Tonks smiled. "A very good answer. The truth is, the distinction between Light and Dark magic is often very subtle, and debate rages constantly over what should be classified as Dark Magic. For example, should an Auror be allowed to use the Unforgiveable Curses in the line of duty?"

Some people nodded; others shook their heads. Tonks asked the class to vote on the matter. Out of eighteen people, nine voted "no", four voted "yes" and five, including Neville and Harry, abstained. Harry remembered what Dumbledore had told him at the end of the previous year. The thought of killing anybody, even Voldemort, made Harry feel sick, yet he knew that his own life depended on it. He was no longer sure about what was right – it seemed that his destiny was forcing him to ignore his own morals.

The thought of the prophecy that linked him to Voldemort plagued him constantly. In conjunction with the still-raw wound left by Sirius's death, it ate away at his insides and tormented him in the dark hours of the night. He was managing to hold himself together only by keeping busy and trying to avoid being alone. Inside him, there was a constant battle, between the need to stay strong, and the urge to curl up in a corner and hide like a frightened child.

"Alright, then," Tonks continued. "You should know that I _will_ be using one of the Unforgiveable curses in this class – don't look so alarmed, I won't hurt anybody!" She laughed. "Professor Moody, I know, tried to train you to resist the _Imperius_ curse. I'll be doing that as well, and hopefully this time around, you'll have a bit more success. That particular skill will be absolutely invaluable to you should you ever encounter You-Know-Who or his supporters. One of his chief weapons during the last war was the _Imperius_ curse – wizards being forced to commit atrocities against their will..."

It was a very thought-provoking lesson. Tonks did not just teach – she was also very interested in the students' own beliefs and perceptions. "So much depends on your own point of view," she said at the end of the lesson. "You can't always be told what's right and wrong – often you'll have to decide on the spot, and it won't be an easy choice. Sometimes it comes down to choosing the lesser of two evils."

"Wow," said Ron as he tried to stuff his textbook into his bag after the lesson. "That was an eye-opener and no mistake."

"It all comes down to morals, doesn't it?" said Hemione thoughtfully. "What you think is right."

"It also depends on the situation," said Harry. "Right and wrong... Sometimes you have no choice but to go against your own morals. For the greater good and all that."

He was trying to convince himself, trying to justify his own inevitable future. He was failing miserably. His distress must have shown, because Hermione studied his face carefully and asked, "Are you alright, Harry?"

He forced his face into a smile. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Hermione looked unconvinced, but she did not pursue the matter. They were now the only students left in the classroom. Everybody else had rushed off to enjoy the remainder of the afternoon, except Liam, who had walked off with his head buried in his Potions textbook. Neville had taken it upon himself to guide him, after Liam walked into the doorframe.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were about to leave, but Tonks called them back. "Hey," she said. "I need to talk to you three."

Harry stared at her in surprise. Could it be news from the Order of the Phoenix?

He was not disappointed. "The Order," Tonks whispered conspiringly, "has a task for you."

The trio exchanged excited glances. Harry couldn't believe his ears. Could it be that the Order finally considered them capable of contributing to the fight against Voldemort?

"Does this mean we're accepted into the Order?" asked Ron excitedly. "That they'll make us members?"

Tonks shook her head. "Not exactly. Sorry, Ron. I guess what you can be is a sort of sub-Order." She grinned. "You can be the Phoenix Propaganda Team! Name it what you want, really."

"Propaganda?" asked Harry. "What do you mean?"

"Okay, let me explain. The simple fact is, here at Hogwarts we have pretty much _all _the young witches and wizards in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. Every town, city, village and clan is represented. Every major wizard family. So, You-Know-Who is now trying to gather supporters – and that includes young people. Young minds are susceptible. It's easy to recruit supporters from a school – if your ideas can penetrate the castle walls. And you can bet your sweet wands that there are students here who are spreading his lies, and turning more and more kids to You-Know-Who's cause. We need you to counter that."

"Huh? How?"

"By spreading your own ideas, of course. Make people understand that _our_ side is the only side to be on, make them realise that there is no reward in joining You-Know-Who. Rally support for Dumbledore."

"I don't get it," said Harry bluntly. "What do you want us to do, hand out pamphlets, or something?"

"Oh, no, nothing that obvious. People must not know they're being manipulated. You'll have to be subtle. I didn't say it was an easy task – but you three have proven yourselves resourceful enough that the Order feels you can do this. And after all, there really is no one else who can."

Harry, however, was not satisfied. In fact, he was beginning to feel angry. "I thought we'd proven ourselves capable of more than spreading a few rumours! This is a joke! After everything I've done..." - seeing the looks on his friends' faces, he quickly corrected himself – "..._we've_ done – after everything we've been through – this is all they can give us?"

"Harry, be reasonable. You're still at school! You can't go off and fight Death Eaters while you're here at Hogwarts! The Order has given you a task, which you are in a position to do. A very important task! Harry, do you have any idea how much of a war is fought with words? Voldemort's strength is not in his ability to kill, but his ability to spread fear and discord! We need to fight that. Our best weapon lies in unity, in people's loyalty to our cause! Do you understand?"

Harry didn't want to understand, but a small, nagging voice inside his head was telling him Tonks was right. He struggled with his anger. "All right," he conceded finally. "All right, you're right, okay?" he said this as if daring the others to laugh at him for backing down.

"All right. I know it's frustrating, Harry, but we all have to do what we can. Good luck, okay? And keep it subtle!"

They left the room. Harry's mind was in disarray. He had mixed feelings about their task. He could see now that it was indeed important, but at the same time, he wished he could do something more substantial. In the end he was forced to admit to himself that what he really wanted was _action_. He didn't like the idea of fighting a war with propaganda and mind games. He wanted a straight fight.

Hermione, on the other hand, already had her mind on the task. "This is going to take a bit of thought. How do we stop people turning to the Dark Side without them catching on to what we're up to?"

Ron snorted. "I don't know! I'm with Harry. I mean, what do they expect us to do, walk up to Malfoy and say, 'Hey, don't become a Death Eater'?"

"No, Ron, didn't you hear what Tonks said? We have to be more subtle than that. Anyway, I don't think we have a chance of converting people like Malfoy... What we _can _do is _prevent_ people like Wormtail."

"What do you mean, _prevent_?"

"I mean that many of Voldemort's supporters chose to join him because they were afraid not to or because they just wanted some power, or simply couldn't see any hope of victory..."

"'If you can't beat them, join them'," said Harry. For some reason this thought made him feel extremely sad.

"Exactly!" said Hermione. "So, what we have to do is make people understand that they will _not _be safe if they join the Dark Side, that there's nothing to gain by doing so. They won't get power, they will get slavery. That's what people need to know."

"So, how do we tell them?"

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it. But the first thing we have to do, Harry..." - she paused to take a deep breath – "...is re-form the DA."

Harry was stunned. Of all things he had expected her to say, this was not one of them. Since the tragic events of the previous June (Harry quickly buried the thought), he had barely even thought about the DA. Too much had happened, too much had changed. He hadn't even considered re-forming the secret Defence group.

"But, Hermione... we have a good Defence teacher now..."

"That's not the point. The point is, it'll be a means for people opposed to Voldemort to come together. We can continue to practice our spells, but more importantly, we'll be able to form a network of people loyal to Dumbledore! As long as we keep it secret, no Voldemort supporter will be able to penetrate it. Don't worry, I'll come up with some really nasty curse to deter any potential traitors."

Ron grinned. "So, is this a situation where you have to go against your own morals?"

"Well, honestly, Ron! I'm not going to _kill_ anybody."

Harry shivered, although the castle was actually quite warm. "Look, I'm not saying it's a bad idea – it's not – but I'll have to think about it. I mean... I'm just not sure that I can do it."

"That's okay, Harry. We understand," said Hermione. And somehow, Harry knew that she did indeed understand. Because he had not meant that he was not capable of teaching students defensive spells: he just wasn't sure, right then, whether he would be able to face the DA. Not after what had happened...

But Hermione understood that, and Harry was grateful.

---

Liam was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, memorising Potions ingredients. He was now onto his seventh one, which he felt was not bad for an afternoon's work. He was beginning to feel tired and drained, but he wanted to take advantage of the fact that the common room was temporarily quiet. It appeared that most of Gryffindor House had gone to watch the Quidditch tryouts, leaving behind those very few individuals who actually had better things to do with their time. Among these was Hermione, who was sitting near the window and writing something on a piece of parchment. After a while, she came over and sat next to Liam.

"How's it going?" she asked, indicating the Potions textbook.

"Pretty good," he replied. "I've done six, so just four more for today."

"That's good." She hesitated. "Listen, Liam, do you know anything about Muggle history?"

Liam raised his eyebrows. "Well, yeah, a bit. Why?"

"What do you know about... propaganda? Like, Hitler, Stalin... How did they... _convince_ people?"

"Oh... I don't know it all that well. But fear was a great part of it. People were afraid to speak out. And ignorance. Like, most people didn't really know what was going on. And not knowing who to trust... Look, I don't want to lie to you, I really don't know this stuff very well. But if you're really interested, I have a pretty good book on twentieth century history. Igot it for my birthday, but haven't got around to reading it yet. You can borrow it, if you like."

"Oh, really? That'd be great!"

"Come on, I'll get it for you," he said with a smile. "What do you want to know this stuff for, anyway?"

"Oh, just sort of general interest. I'm thinking about how Voldemort is similar to these Muggle dictators."

"I think he _is _a dictator. It's just that he happens to use magic to do his dirty work. But all his other tactics – spreading terror, discord, _uncertainty_ – it's been done a thousand times before. In Muggle history, and in magical history too, I'm sure."

She followed him into the boys' dormitory. "Hey, they put in an extra bed..." she said.

"Well what did you expect, that I'd sleep on the floor?" He opened his trunk and rummaged through the pile of books. "Here it is."

But Hermione was staring at Liam's open trunk. "All those books! You brought them all?"

"Well, yeah. I love reading, and I re-read all my favourites pretty often. I mean, this is just a fraction of what I have at home."

Hermione had fallen to her knees beside the trunk, her eyes glowing. "Tolkien, Dickens, Salinger... Ooooh! You have Douglas Adams!"

Liam was laughing now. There was something thrilling about meeting a fellow enthusiast. It was a feeling, Liam was certain, that only a keen reader could understand. "You like the _Hitchhiker's Guide_? I thought you wizards didn't read Muggle authors!"

"I'm Muggle-born. And those wizards don't know what they're missing out on!" she said heatedly. "Oh, please, please, please can I borrow it? It's been so long since I've read it!"

"Of course. Well, if I don't let you, you'll just sneak in here at night and steal it, won't you?"

Hermione nodded vigorously.

"But honestly," said Liam as they walked back down to the common room, "I would've thought you'd be into really serious stuff, like Orwell or something. Not the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_."

"Oh, I've read Orwell. But _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ isn't exactly the sort of thing you want to read twice. The _Hitchhiker's Guide_, on the other hand... Well, we all have our guilty pleasures, don't we?"


	5. Rogue Magic

**5. Rogue Magic**

Liam did not have any trouble finishing his potion ingredients for that day. When he revised them before going to bed, he thought happily that the task was not nearly as difficult as it appeared, and he would easily know the entire glossary by the next Monday.

He had not counted, however, on having to do homework for other subjects. In the next morning's Defence class, Tonks asked them to write a short essay on what they believed was the difference between Light and Dark magic, to be handed in the next day. Under normal circumstances, Liam would have had no trouble with such an assignment, but his potions glossary was taking up most of his free time.

That was just the beginning of his troubles.

After Defence, Liam followed Harry, Ron and Hermione to their first Charms lesson of the year. Professor Flitwick greeted the students warmly and congratulated them on their outstanding O.W.L. results. He welcomed Liam to the class and questioned him about various spells.

The exchange did not go well. Liam had thought that he knew quite a lot. After all, he had spent much of his spare time during weekends and holidays learning spells with his mother. As it turned out, weekends and holidays were no substitute for full-time education.

"Look, I know I'm behind, but I can catch up," said Liam desperately when Flitwick suggested he take fifth-year charms instead.

Flitwick looked unconvinced. And by the end of the lesson, Liam knew that he was in way over his head. They were learning Conjuring Charms – creating objects out of thin air. The only thing Liam managed to conjure was a shower of sparks, which only stopped when Flitwick doused it with water from his own wand.

Transfiguration was even worse. They were supposed to transfigure their desks into Labradors. Hermione's ran around the room barking and wagging its tail; Harry's was somewhat stiff, but still recognisably canine; Ron's was still a desk, but at least it had grown fur.

Liam's desk caught fire. At the end of the double period, McGonagall was also suggesting that Liam drop back to fifth year. Once again, he promised desperately to catch up. To his dismay, McGonagall decided to hold him to his promise and handed him a heavy textbook, ordering him to read chapters three to seven and practice transfiguring smaller objects.

"And I'm telling you now, Grady, if you don't show signs of improvement, I will drop you back. You will learn more if you start at a level you can handle."

The only bright spot Liam had that day was when Snape gave him his grade for the previous day's potion: a surprising "Acceptable". Ron commented that it was the first time he had seen Snape give a fair mark to a Gryffindor. Snape overheard, and took away ten House points.

With all the extra homework, learning the potions glossary became increasingly difficult. As the week wore on, Liam found himself going to bed later and later, and waking up feeling exhausted. He did not go exploring the Hogwarts grounds as he'd planned; his violin never left his trunk. Even his books lay untouched as he struggled to complete all his homework. He became sullen and irritable, and he missed Stonewall desperately.

When the weekend arrived, the other students went off to practice Quidditch, or just to stroll through the grounds, enjoying the rare autumn sunshine. Liam, however, remained indoors, reciting the potions glossary to the paintings on the walls.

On Monday morning, he arrived in Potions with dark circles around his eyes, but his head full of Potion ingredients. He was tired, he was angry, but he was ready.

Snape didn't even glance at him. He simply told the class to open their textbooks on page forty and begin preparing the potion described there. Liam just sat there gaping at him. Surely he was going to test him, like he'd said?

"Grady, I told you to begin on the potion. Clearly, you weren't listening. Five points from Gryffindor."

"Sir... those potion ingredients. I learnt them."

"Are you expecting some kind of reward? You should have known them before you ever came to my class. Now, if you don't start on your potion _right now_, it will be another _ten_ points from Gryffindor!"

Fuming, Liam began. His anger, and lack of sleep the previous week, however, made it impossible to concentrate. He kept on dropping ingredients, and while cutting up lacewig flies, his knife slipped and sliced his finger. "Damn it!" he yelled, dropping the knife.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for profanity in my class, Grady."

"Hey, Grady," sneered Malfoy beside him, "are all Muggles as clumsy as you? Or are you just retarded?"

It was the last straw. Liam turned to Malfoy, intending to punch his teeth through the back of his head, but before he could do so, he felt his anger turn into magic.

Malfoy's cauldron belched loudly.

Liam felt nauseous. "Oh, not good," he muttered, backing away from Malfoy's desk.

For a moment, Malfoy stared at him, perplexed. Then he looked into his cauldron.

The potion had grown legs. As Malfoy and Liam watched, transfixed, it slithered out of the cauldron and fell onto the desk with a wet _thump_. It raised itself on its wobbly legs and scuttled off the table. Pansy Parkinson shrieked and knocked over Goyle's cauldron in her haste to get away from the potion. The horrible, slimy thing reared up on its hind three legs (it had seven, altogether), and belched again. Then it turned to face Liam and _leered_.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, it has teeth," Liam said weakly.

Snape didn't waste any more time. He hastily pulled out his wand, pointed it at the potion and yelled, "_Impedimenta!_" The potion stopped dead. Its legs collapsed underneath it. Slowly, its form began to dissolve, until it was nothing but a murky puddle on the floor.

Snape looked hard at Liam, then turned to the class. "I must go see the Headmaster. Continue working on your potions. If there is any foolishness while I am gone, rest assured I will know about it. Grady, you come with me."

For the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, Liam was scared. Not worried or nervous, but actually scared. He hadn't just let out a little bit of magic to get him out of a bad situation – he had _slipped_. He had not meant to use magic. His anger had burst out without him having any control over it whatsoever. He had not done something like this for years. He knew he was in deep trouble.

"It _was_ you, wasn't it, Grady?" asked Snape in a surprisingly weary tone.

Liam saw no point in lying. "Yes. Sir. I didn't meant to, though!"

Snape shook his head. "Explain it to the Headmaster, Grady. I'm not interested."

They stopped in front of a large stone gargoyle. "Skiving Snackbox," Snape said.

The gargoyle moved aside and an opening appeared in the wall behind it. Liam followed Snape onto the moving spiral staircase.

When they entered Dumbledore's office, Snape didn't waste any time. "Professor Dumbledore. We've got a case of... rogue magic."

Dumbledore looked at Liam intently. His expression was grave.

"What happened, Severus?"

"A potion grew legs and teeth," Snape replied. "Last week there was an incident where a cauldron tipped over by itself, though I didn't realise what caused it at the time."

"That wasn't... rogue magic!" Liam protested. "I... did that on purpose." He knew the confession would get him into trouble, but somehow he felt it was important to let them know that he didn't often lose control.

"Liam, perhaps you'd better sit down. You may go, Severus."

Snape looked displeased, but he obeyed. When he was gone, Dumbledore studied Liam's face. Liam tried to match the stare, but it was no contest. Liam looked away.

"Professor," he said hesitantly, "I don't understand. Why is this such a big deal? I mean... I know I shouldn't have tipped Malfoy's cauldron, but that's not why I'm in trouble, is it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Liam, rogue magic can be extremely dangerous. You may even think you have it under control, though what happened today proves that you don't, but even when you deliberately let it out, you have no control over what it actually does."

"Look, what is rogue magic, exactly?"

"Rogue magic is magic in its elemental form. It is magic, which is unbound by spell or wand. Because of this, it is completely random. Witches and wizards possess the ability to produce this magic. All magical children produce rogue magic in times of stress. At that age, they are not yet powerful enough to cause any serious damage. And once they start getting some proper magical training, the outbursts of rogue magic usually subside, as all their power is channelled trough a wand. Even what little magic you mother has taught you should have been enough to stop you making things explode."

"But it wasn't."

"No. It wasn't."

"Why?"

"Ahh, that's a good question. There are many possible reasons, Liam. The main one, I suppose, is that you are quite powerful, so the small amount of _controlled _magic that you practiced wasn't a large enough outlet for your power. So whenever you are in a charged emotional state, it bursts out. Also there is the fact that you actually used it deliberately. It is like an itch – if you scratch it, it will only get worse. Liam, I must stress this upon you: rogue magic is extremely unpredictable and dangerous. _Do not use it._"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to, today. I just... slipped."

"Yes, and in order to prevent that from happening again, you must learn to keep your emotions under control. I know it is difficult, especially at your age, but you must try."

"It wasn't my fault. Snape..."

"_Professor_ Snape, Liam."

"_Professor _Snape set me an impossible amount of homework. I've been really stressed out."

"Yes Liam, it is usually other people who make our lives stressful. It is up to you to learn to deal with it."

"How?" Liam felt his anger returning. Deal with it? That was so easy for this man to say! _Try dealing with a new school, no music, a horrible teacher and that git Malfoy, all in one week._

"My suggestion to you," said Dumbledore calmly, "is that you find some way of releasing all your pent-up frustrations. I understand that you are a musician?"

Liam was surprised. He had not mentioned this to anybody except the students on the Hogwarts express. He wondered how the information had reached Dumbledore. "Yeah," he said. "But I could only bring my violin – all my other instruments need electricity."

"Well, I suggest that you play your violin whenever you get a chance. Musical ability is a wonderful thing – and extremely rare in a wizard. Especially a pure-blood."

Liam frowned. This was news to him. "What? Why?"

"Didn't you know? It is just the way of nature, Liam. I guess it is... the compromise we make. We get the ability to do magic. Muggles get the ability to play music, paint pictures, write poetry. Most wizards have no gift for the creative arts. I believe this is because art, in all its different forms, is in itself a form of magic. A different kind of magic, perhaps. A wizard's power goes into... making things happen. A Muggle's goes into art. Not all Muggles, of course – just like not all wizards are really all that good at magic. You, Liam, are one of the lucky ones that have a talent for both."

"You believe music is magic?" Liam was staring at the headmaster in amazement.

"Oh yes. Does it not have the power to move people? Does it not have the power to change the world?"

"I don't know," said Liam. "Does it? I'd like to believe that."

"Music can change how a person feels. And how a person feels can affect how they act. And that, Liam, is all it takes to change the world."

Liam was stunned. He had never, ever expected to hear those words here in the wizarding world – least of all for the Headmaster himself.

"I thought I was the only one who knew that," he said softly.

---

Liam lifted the violin out of its case with eager hands. Wondering how he could have forgotten about the one thing that always made him happy, he played a few notes and adjusted the tuning. Caressing the strings lovingly, he began to play.

He had not played, not even _listened_ to music in over a week. Now, as the melody began seeping into the castle walls, it felt like the first sip of cool, clear water after days of wandering in the desert. All his stress, exhaustion, worries and fears seemed to drift away into the darkening sky. Only the music remained: for a moment, the world was made of sound. Liam stood at the centre of it, his bow flying over the strings, weaving every emotion that plagued his heart into the melody.

A red-haired girl was watching him from the open doorway.

Liam's bow slipped. With a startled, squealing sound, his top string broke, slicing his hand.

"Argh," he groaned, feeling his hand begin to sting.

"I'm sorry!" said Ginny. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll... here, I can fix that." She pulled out her wand.

Liam yelled out, "No, don't!" but it was too late.

"_Reparo_," said Ginny. The string snapped back into place, seamless and unbroken. However, when Liam ran his bow over it, no music came out – only a low, tuneless squeak.

"I'm sorry!" apologised Ginny again, this time sounding quite distraught.

Liam shook his head and held up the violin. For some reason, he was angry. "You see?" he said bitterly. "This is why I didn't want to be a wizard! You're all obsessed with magic, you think it's all there is to life. You want to fix everything with magic." He paused, fighting to get his frustration under control. "Sometimes magic isn't what it takes," he said finally.

Ginny turned around and walked off. Liam was left feeling worse than he had at any time since arriving at Hogwarts. He could replace the broken string easily enough, but the joy of music now seemed to be tainted, somehow. Feeling hollow and wretched, he replaced the violin in its case and stowed it away in his trunk. He didn't know when he'd play again.

---

Any feelings of optimism, which Liam had briefly entertained on his first day at Hogwarts had now disappeared entirely. Life at the wizarding school was swiftly becoming unbearable. The final blow to Liam's spirits came on Friday afternoon, when Professor McGonagall asked him to see her in her office after his last class for the day.

Liam had a pretty good idea of what the meeting would be about: try as he might, he had still not been able to transfigure his desk. After two weeks at Hogwarts, his Transfiguration work had shown no improvement whatsoever.

"Please sit down, Mr Grady," said McGonagall when Liam arrived. Liam sat, trying mentally to steel himself for what he knew was coming.

"Grady," said McGonagall in a sympathetic tone, "I know it hasn't been easy for you here."

"I read that stuff you gave me," he said, hoping against hope that she would see how hard he was working. "All those chapters. And I've been practicing. I know I can do it!"

McGonagall sighed. "Look, Grady, you are simply expecting too much of yourself. You cannot catch up on five years worth of work in two weeks! Transfiguration is a difficult subject, and determination alone will not help you learn a spell, which is so far above your level. How does that Muggle saying go? You must learn to walk before you learn to run. I have spoken to Professor Flitwick and he also thinks that you will not benefit from trying to master sixth-year spells when you haven't even done your O.W.L.'s."

Liam tried to remain calm, but to his horror he realised that he was on the verge of tears. Too much had gone wrong for him in the past two weeks; this was the final straw. He was forced to take a few steadying breaths before he could speak. "But Professor, I am trying really hard! I just don't know what else I can do!"

"Grady," said McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle tone, "I can see that you're trying. But your efforts will be more useful to you if you start at a lower level. Professor Flitwick and I both feel that you would benefit from studying magic at the fifth-year level."

"But I don't want to be dropped back!" Liam pleaded desperately. "I want to stay in sixth year!"

He wasn't even sure why it mattered so much to him. Perhaps it was because being dropped back would make him feel like a complete and utter failure. It would prove once and for all that he did not belong in this world. It would make his alienation complete.

"Let me finish, Grady, it isn't all as bad as you think. I have spoken to all your teachers. Professor Snape has grudgingly acknowledged that your potions work is adequate for a sixth-year. Defence Against the Dark Arts has been disrupted so much over the past five years that you are hardly worse off than anybody else. And of course, nobody doubts that you can do well in Muggle Studies. So you do not need to drop down to fifth year for those subjects. You will stay enrolled as a sixth year and remain in the sixth-year dormitory – you will simply take Transfiguration and Charms with the fifth-years. The fifth-year Gryffindors have Transfiguration when the sixth-years have Charms. The fifth-year Charms class, however, would overlap with your Muggle Studies, so you will have to take Charms with the Slytherins. Is that all clear?"

"I understand, Professor," said Liam weakly.

"In that case, you may go. Your new timetable starts on Monday. And cheer up, Mr Grady. It isn't all that bad."

Liam got up and quietly left the office. It was only then that McGonagall noticed that the potted plant on her windowsill, which had been strong and healthy that morning, was now wilted, its leaves drooping sadly over the edge of the pot.


	6. Self Esteem

**6. Self Esteem**

On Saturday morning, Liam woke to find dim grey light filtering through the dormitory windows. Thinking it was still early, he tried to go back to sleep, but this proved impossible. When he looked at his watch he realised it was already ten o'clock, and the dimness of the light was due to the heavily overcast sky. The dormitory was empty: all the other boys were already up.

Slowly, he made his way down to the Great Hall. He had no particular desire to face Hogwarts that morning: all he really wanted to do was to stay in bed with the drapes drawn around him. However, miserable as he was, he could not ignore the rumbling in his stomach. Not even the deepest depression could put Liam off his breakfast.

He was about to sit down at the Gryffindor table when he felt a soft, hesitant tap on his shoulder. He was somewhat surprised to see that it was Eloise Midgen. Over the past two weeks, she had become somewhat more confident around Liam, but it was still a shock that she had actually worked up the nerve to approach him. Liam forced his face into a smile, afraid that if he appeared unfriendly, he would scare her away.

"Hi, Ellie," he said. "What's up?"

Ellie coughed nervously, and said in a terrified voice: "I was wondering... that is, I was... er... um... have you done your Muggle Studies essay yet?"

Liam hadn't: in fact, he had forgotten about it entirely. "No. I totally forgot. I guess I'll do it today. Why?"

Ellie blushed. "Well, I, er... I'm having a bit of trouble... um..." She blushed an even deeper shade of red, and scuffed her shoes self-consciously. "Could you, maybe, help me out a bit?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure." Liam's smile was genuine this time. "Absolutely. Why don't we meet in the library later? I was just going to have some breakfast – do you want to meet me at eleven?"

Ellie nodded eagerly. "Yes! Thank you. See you then." She scuttled off.

For some reason, the exchange lifted Liam's spirits somewhat. Perhaps it was the knowledge that somebody here at Hogwarts needed his help. Liam was not useless at everything – perhaps he had a value here after all. Or perhaps it was just the need to make a friend, however shy and reluctant. Liam had at first hoped that Harry would accept him as a friend, since they had known each other in primary school, but he soon realised that this was not to be the case. Harry, Ron and Hermione were an extremely close-knit group. All three of them, especially Hermione, were quite friendly with Liam, but he was still an outsider: the bonds of friendship in that group were too powerful for Liam to even contemplate penetrating them.

It was a similar story with all the other Gryffindors. Everywhere he looked, Liam saw friendships and groups already established, and reluctant to accept an outsider. Seamus and Dean were quite happy to talk to him, but all their conversations seemed to revolve around football or Quidditch. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were not interested in him at all, and would quickly stop talking whenever he approached them. The moment he began to walk away, they would break the silence with a burst of giggles not dissimilar to those Liam was used to hearing from Tara and her friends.

Neville was a slightly different story. As far as Liam could tell, he did not have any close friends, and he appeared quiet and shy, somebody who always lived in the shadow of his classmates. And yet, Liam sensed a certain kind of strength about him, a sort of barrier between Neville and the outside world. He was friendly enough, but Liam felt he was the sort of person who did not allow others to get too close.

Ellie, on the other hand, was just shy. Through the handwritten notes passed during Muggle Studies, Liam had come to know her as a friendly, easy-going girl, whom he rather liked. Face to face, however, she seemed terrified of saying the wrong thing. It was almost as if she thought she would get into trouble for speaking. Liam hoped that if he made an effort to talk to her, she would eventually come out of her shell.

So, in somewhat higher spirits, he quickly ate his breakfast and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower to collect his books. Hermione accosted him as he was crossing the common room.

"Liam, I've finished your books," she said. "Do you think I could borrow something else?"

Liam grinned. "More Muggle fiction?"

"Oh yes. I'm starving for it. And I got Ginny to read _The Hitchhiker's Guide._ I hope you don't mind."

Liam was startled. "No, of course not. But... Ginny was kind of mad at me..."

"Yeah, I know. She told me about it. Don't worry, she's not that mad. If you apologise, I think she'll forget about it."

Liam felt embarrassed. "Yeah, I didn't mean to snap at her. I was just having a bad day."

"I know, I know. I'm in your potions class, remember? What happened that day, by the way? I mean... what did Dumbledore say to you?"

"He said... Well, he told me I need to control my emotions. And..." he hesitated, unsure what to tell her about his music.

"What?" Hermione pressed him.

"Well... he said I should play my violin. He said... not many wizards are good at music. Or art, or anything of that kind as far as I can understand."

Hermione considered this. "I suppose that's true. Dean is pretty good at art, but apart from him, I don't think I know any wizard who's good at any of that creative stuff. I wonder why?"

"I don't know. Dumbledore said it was something to do with different sorts of magic. Like... art is also magic."

"I never thought of it that way. But I suppose art does have a certain kind of power, doesn't it?"

Liam nodded seriously. "Absolutely."

They entered the boys' dormitory. Neville was sitting on his bed, writing on a piece of parchment. He looked up when the door opened. "Hi, Hermione!" he said. "Hi, Liam. What are you guys doing?"

"Liam's just going to lend me some books," Hermione replied. "And then I'm going to study – take advantage of the quiet time while Harry and Ron are at Quidditch practice."

"Yeah, I should get started on some of that Charms homework. I was just writing a letter to Gran."

Hermione turned back to Liam. "That reminds me, Liam. How are you going with Transfiguration and Charms? If you want, I could help you practice some spells."

Laim swore under his breath. For a little while, he had forgotten about his impending transfer to fifth year. Hermione's offer of help was an unwelcome reminder. "It's too late," he said bitterly. "They've transferred me to fifth year."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" said Hermione earnestly. Liam had to give her credit, she appeared genuinely upset. "But you were doing so well in Potions! And that's saying something, considering what Snape is like."

Liam brightened a little at the compliment. "Yeah, they're not dropping me back for everything. Just Transfiguration and Charms." He tried to sound nonchalant. "It's fair enough, I suppose. I mean, I really am bad."

Neville looked up from his letter. "I'm surprised I never got held back. I'm hardly any better than you are. And you're already beating me in Potions."

Liam was puzzled. "Why do you do it, then? I thought you all got to choose your subjects."

For some reason, Neville blushed and dropped his gaze. "I need it," he muttered.

"What for?" asked Liam curiously.

Neville did not reply, but returned to his letter. Hermione broke the awkward silence by pulling an old, battered paperback out of Liam's trunk. "Hey Liam, is this any good? I never got around to reading it."

Liam looked at the book she was holding. It was his precious copy of _The Lord of the Rings_. Immediately, Neville's subject choices were forgotten. "That is my favourite book! You have to read it, it is, I swear, it is the best book ever written."

Hermione smiled. "I read _The Hobbit_ when I was little, but I never got around to reading this. Can I borrow it?"

"Of course. Be careful with it though, it's falling apart. It's the first copy that I read, and I've re-read it about five times since."

"I can fix it, if you –"

"No!" Surprised at his own reaction, he quickly forced himself to calm down. "I mean... I'd rather you didn't."

Hermione was startled. "But what will happen? It's not like the violin string, is it?"

Liam shook his head. "No, I'm sure it would be as good as new. But... I'd rather just fix it with Sellotape." He was feeling slightly embarrassed now. "It's a Muggle book. It just doesn't seem right to fix it with magic."

The truth was, the dog-eared paperback was precious to him. Every crease in the pages was a memoir to the countless hours he had spent trekking the paths of Middle Earth in his head. Somehow, to erase those creases seemed like a betrayal.

Liam would never admit that, of course.

While Liam had talked to Hermione, Neville had walked over to peer at the contents of Liam's trunk. "Are all these Muggle books?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Liam. "You wanna borrow some?"

"What are they like?" asked Neville curiously.

"My books? Or Muggle books in general?"

"Both."

"Look, Muggle books in general are probably the same as Wizard books – you have to dig through a lot of crap before you stumble on a treasure. These are mostly all my favourites."

Neville picked up Liam's copy of _The Hobbit_, and began flipping through the pages. "Hey! This is talking about a Wizard!"

Liam smiled. "Don't worry, he's not like one of us. Muggles have some interesting ideas about magic. All of them wrong, of course. They don't believe magic is real, so it leaves them free to imagine anything they want. And I tell you, some Muggles have beautiful imaginations."

"I thought Muggles hated magic?" said Neville.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Neville, if they hated magic, do you think Muggle-born wizards would be allowed to come to Hogwarts?"

"Oh..." Neville blushed. "You're right."

Liam grinned. "Some Muggles long for magic. They feel their lives are too mundane – they want to believe there's something more out there."

"Isn't that what they call religion?"

A cynical note crept into Liam's voice. "Religion – yes, if you're lucky. Sensible Muggles turn to religion. Much worse are the ones that turn to magic. Or what they call magic, anyway."

Neville looked incredulous. "But Muggles can't do magic!"

"Of course not. But they convince themselves that they can. Like my friend Jessie. Don't get me wrong, she's my friend and all, but she's seriously misguided. She's decided that she's a witch." Liam cringed inwardly as he thought of what Jessie considered a witch to be. As far as Liam could discern, it was somebody who wore a lot of eyeliner and burned scented candles in her bedroom twenty-four hours a day. "She's gone and bought all these hokey books written by some pot-smoking hippie, and now she's learning spells out of them. The worst thing is, she's totally convinced that they work."

"But... surely she must see that they don't?

"Well, you'd think so, wouldn't you? But according to the pot-smoking hippie, magic is an art that takes years to perfect – at least he got something right – and sometimes spells may not work if you haven't yet mastered the Art. So, if Jessie does a spell, say, to make a guy like her, and he does, she says it's because her spell worked. When he dumps her a week later, it's because she must've done the spell incorrectly and it backfired. I mean, you can't argue with that kind of logic."

"So, why don't you just set her straight? Tell her what real magic is like?"

Liam grimaced. "I can't. My friends Sarah and Davey know, because we've known each other since we were little kids. But with Jessie, it's tricky. She only started hanging around with us last year, and she's great, except for the whole magic thing. See, she really takes it all seriously. And, well, she's had some problems..." he grimaced and quickly went on, not wanting to dwell on the topic, "Basically, I'm afraid to tell her the truth because I'm worried about what will happen to her if I do. She's... a bit unstable. I'm hoping she'll get over it eventually, and then I'll tell her. Mind you, she already thinks I'm a kindred spirit – what she calls a 'natural witch'." Liam cringed at the word. "I made the mistake of performing a little party trick in front of her."

"What did you do?"

"I turned water into wine." Liam grinned widely. That had almost been worth it. "I got into so much shit. I used my sister's wand, see. Pinched it from her trunk in the holidays and took it to this party. My mum had taught me some simple transfiguration spells, so I thought I'd do a bit of a Jesus. Well, it was great, everybody had a fantastic time, Davey ended up spewing his guts out in the bathtub – all in all, a very successful party. Of course, I had to endure Jessie calling me a natural witch and trying to convince me that I should learn magic with her because I was clearly wasting my talent – ah, sweet irony! But anyway, at the end of it all I stumble home, none too sober, I might add, and there's my sister bawling her eyes out and my mum waving a bit of parchment in my face. Turns out it's a letter from the Ministry saying something like '_Tara Grady, your wand was used to perform a Transfiguration spell at 8:43 pm, on the third of July, blah, blah, blah... The spell was performed in full view of seventeen Muggles. We remind you that use of magic outside of school, and furthermore, in front of Muggles, is strictly forbidden by Decree blah, blah, blah... _' In a nutshell, it said my sister would be expelled from Hogwarts if she ever did it again!" He laughed, though the memory was still recent enough to make him uncomfortable. "My mum wrote a letter to the Ministry explaining how it was me that cast the spell. She got fined seven hundred Galleons for letting me run amok with a wand. She hasn't let me forget it, either. I don't think I'll get pocket money again until I'm in my thirties."

Neville tried to look sympathetic, but couldn't suppress a smile. Hermione simply shook her head in disapproval.

Liam glanced at his watch and realised it was a quarter past eleven. "Shit – I'm late!"

Quickly, he began to stuff pens, parchment and his Muggle Studies textbook into his bag. Before he could run out, however, Neville asked him, "Hey, can I borrow a book?"

"Sure – take your pick," Liam called over his shoulder as he ran out the door. "They're all good, I promise."

---

Eloise Midgen had been in the library for almost half an hour. She had arrived early, afraid that if Liam came and she wasn't there, he would leave. Now she was certain that he had either forgotten, or deliberately decided not to show up. It was a cruel trick, which Eloise had sadly experienced before. Granted, people did not always mean to hurt her: it was just so easy to forget shy, ugly Eloise Midgen.

She cursed herself silently for asking Liam for help: she was not even sure now how she had worked up the courage to do it. _How could I be so stupid_, she told herself. _I've just gone and made a fool of myself._

"Ellie! Hi!"

She looked up in shock: there was Liam, red faced and puffing, jogging towards her. Other people looked up as well – Liam had not bothered to keep his voice down in the quiet library. Madam Pince frowned angrily and snapped, "No running in the library! And if you don't keep your voice down, you will be thrown out!"

Embarrassed, Liam slowed to walk and came to sit down at Eloise's table. "Sorry I'm late," he apologised. "I lost track of time."

Eloise smiled nervously. She was immensely relieved now that he was here. He had not forgotten or deliberately stood her up: he had simply lost track of time. She also felt a small twinge of pleasure at the sound of the name "Ellie", though he had been calling her that almost since the first day they met. It suggested a familiarity, which Eloise had rarely experienced with anybody, not even her family. Eloise had always been expected to call her parents "Mother" and "Father". They, in turn, had never given her nicknames, even when she was a baby. It had always been "Eloise", or even worse, "Eloise Agatha". Eloise fervently hoped that Liam would never find out her middle name.

"So, what was the problem?" he asked her as he pulled out his quills and parchment. "I haven't even started my essay yet. I figured I wouldn't have too much trouble with it."

"Oh, well," began Eloise, silently berating herself for blushing, "I don't really understand how the voting thing works. I mean, do they vote for a person, or a party? I don't understand the whole party business at all."

Liam launched into a somewhat muddled explanation of Muggle politics. Eventually, after realising he wasn't making any sense, he conceded that he did not understand it all that well himself, as he had often skived off the social studies classes at his Muggle school.

Eloise could not help being fascinated. From the moment she met him, she had longed to question Liam about what Muggle school was like, but had always been too shy to do so. She had asked him a few things during their rounds of note-passing in class, but it was difficult to get a satisfying answer when you were confined to writing on scraps of parchment under the desk.

There was so much that was strange about Liam, not least the fact that he considered her, Eloise Midgen, worth talking to. There were so many things, which Eloise had always taken for granted, which to Liam were either novelties or sources of great irritation. She remembered an incident during the first week of term, when Professor Downie had noticed that Liam was writing with a ballpoint pen. Eloise had noticed the strange pen earlier, but had not asked Liam about it. Professor Downie, however, took it from Liam and showed it to the class.

"Have a look everybody – here we have a genuine Muggle artefact. It is what is called a _ballpoint pen_. It is based on a fairly simple technology and allows one to write without the need to dip the pen into ink. It is a prime example of the ingenuity of Muggle thinking."

However, as he returned the pen to Liam, he said quietly, "I suggest you get some quills and ink, Mr Grady. All your exams will be written using a special anti-cheating quill. You will not be able to use your pen. You will have trouble if you do not get used to writing with a quill."

"But why do wizards have to use quills?" protested Liam. "Pens are so much easier! I just don't see the point of using quills at all!"

Downie's tone was somewhat colder as he replied. "We use quills, Mr Grady, because we have always used quills. We are wizards, after all. If we start using Muggle pens, what will we be doing next? Playing football?" He chuckled at his own joke.

But Eloise was left wondering: why _did_ they have to use quills? Clearly, the Muggle pens were much more practical – what was the harm in using them?

Liam, too, had been dissatisfied with Professor Downie's response. In fact, he seemed angered by it, and had walked out of class that day without a word to anybody. The threat of being forced to do exams with a quill, however, seemed to have worked, because from that day onwards, Liam had not used the ballpoint pen. He was clearly not happy about it, though – even now, she saw him mutter a curse under his breath as he dropped a spot of ink onto his parchment.

That was another thing about Liam – he swore a lot more that anybody else Eloise knew. It was a habit, which somehow seemed inconsistent with Liam's otherwise friendly nature. Eloise wondered if Muggles swore more than wizards.

"Why don't you talk?" asked Liam suddenly, startling Eloise out of her thoughts. "I mean, you're happy to talk to me on paper, but face-to-face, it's like you're scared of me."

Eloise blushed. "I'm not... scared of you," she stammered. "I'm just... not used to talking to boys." She blushed again.

"We're not that bad, you know," he said with a smile. "Do you have strict parents, or something?"

Eloise was startled to hear him say this. "How did you know?" she asked.

"Something about your mannerisms, I guess. People with strict parents are often a bit shy. Scared of talking to people – especially the opposite sex."

"Oh, well, I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind me _talking_ to a boy. But you're right, they're always telling me not to 'bring shame on the family'. But... that's not why I'm shy." Immediately, she kicked herself for saying this. She already knew Liam well enough to know that he would not leave the topic alone now.

Sure enough, the next thing he said was, "So, why are you shy, then?"

Eloise sighed. She knew he would want an answer, and she could feel her resolve wavering. Why not tell the truth? After all, what harm could it do?

"Well... boys don't really like me." She felt so stupid; she wished Liam would stop looking at her face, boring into her with his keen brown eyes. "They tease me, okay? 'Fat Eloise' and 'Ugly Eloise' and stuff like that. They don't want to know a girl with pimples and a crooked nose."

To her dismay, Liam laughed. "Your nose isn't crooked!"

She realised that his laughter was not malicious, but warm and sympathetic. "Jesus, some things are the same the world over," he said. "My friend Sarah used to get teased, it was really sad actually, because she had a crush on this guy and he called her a 'smelly porker' when she asked him out! She cried for like, a week and swore she'd never ask another guy out again. Stupidest thing is, she's not even all that fat. My mate Dave fancied her and now they're going out. But after that guy called her fat, she tried to starve herself to lose weight! It was so stupid."

"She starved herself?" said Eloise incredulously, for a moment forgetting her own troubles. "Isn't that a bit... extreme?"

For some reason, Liam's face darkened. "You'd be amazed what some people will do because of low self-esteem." He began to smile again. "Don't let shit like that get to you. Just because someone teased you once, or even many times, it's no reason to give up on yourself."

Eloise didn't know what to say to that. She felt a strange, pleasant feeling spreading from her chest and out to the rest of her body. She realised that she was smiling broadly. Somehow, Liam's words had made her feel better about herself than any magical beauty treatment she had ever tried.


	7. The First Attack

**_Chapter 7_**

**_The First Attack_**

On Tuesday morning, Liam made his way to Professor McGonagall's classroom for his first fifth-year Transfiguration class. The morning had dawned grey and cold, the frost on the grass marking the approach of winter. The draughty hallways of the castle became chilly and unwelcoming, and students hurried to reach the shelter of the warm classrooms.

Liam arrived early, working under the strange logic that the sooner he began his ordeal, the sooner it'd be over. Deep inside him was a gnawing fear that he wouldn't be able to handle fifth-year Transfiguration, either, and would be dropped back even further.

When he entered the classroom, he found that several students were there before him. As soon as he walked in, they began whispering amongst themselves.

Only one student did not join in. Ginny Weasley looked up from the book she was reading and stared at Liam for a moment, before waving her hand for him to come over.

Liam hadn't spoken to Ginny since the incident of the broken violin string, and was feeling somewhat apprehensive as he approached her desk. Ginny, however, did not seem to be looking for an apology. "Quickly, sit down before Colin Creepy gets here," she said. "He always wants to sit next to me, and if I let him, he'll bug me all lesson."

Bewildered, Liam sat. He cleared his throat nervously. "Look, Ginny, I'm sorry about last week..."

Ginny dismissed his apology with a wave. "It's okay. I shouldn't have rushed in like that – it was rude of me."

"No, no, you didn't know. I shouldn't have snapped at you – I was just having a bad day."

"Well, it's okay. Call it quits?"

Liam smiled. "Yeah."

At that moment, a thin boy with mousey brown hair came into the classroom. Seeing Liam sitting next to Ginny, he turned to the girl. "Why didn't you save me a seat, Ginny?" he said, sounding genuinely hurt.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I didn't know I was supposed to, Colin."

Colin turned to study Liam. "You're the new sixth-year, aren't you?"

Liam nodded. Colin turned his attention back to Ginny. "Listen, Ginny – there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. Do you want to go for a Butterbeer with me?"

"Umm, I was going to go shopping with Hermione," Ginny replied. "Sorry."

"I can come with you!" exclaimed Colin, in the tone of somebody offering a generous gift.

Ginny shook her head. "No, thanks, Colin, but we're going to buy... _girly_ things."

"I don't mind!" said Colin brightly.

"_We_ do," retorted Ginny.

Looking put out, Colin retreated to another desk. When he was out of earshot, Ginny muttered, "Why can't he just take a hint!"

Further conversation had to be postponed, as Professor McGonagall entered the classroom. She nodded to Liam when she saw him sitting next to Ginny. "Have you got a fifth-year textbook, Mr Grady?"

"Er, no," he said. "I was going to buy one when we go into Hogsmeade."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "You need a textbook, Grady. There are spare copies in the Library – I suggest you borrow one until you can obtain your own."

With that, she turned her attention to the rest of the class. "Today we will continue our work on Vanishing Spells. This class has shown a disappointing lack of progress over the past two weeks – it is time you pulled your brains out of holiday mode! I should not need to remind you that this spell is very likely to come up on your O.W.L.'s!"

As the class began practicing the spell, Liam raised his hand.

McGonagall came over to his desk. "What is it, Grady?"

"Professor, will I have to do the O.W.L.'s for this subject?"

"Yes, you will. If you study Transfiguration at the fifth-year level, there is no reason why you should avoid the exams – after all, all the other students will need to pass them in order to move on to sixth year. Ideally, you should have done the O.W.L.'s for all your subjects – but as you know, the Ministry simply could not spare the resources."

Liam took a deep breath. "Well, I don't know how to do Vanishing Charms. Are they in the textbook?"

McGonagall's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "It's alright, Grady, I don't expect you to learn them from a textbook. I will go through them with you now."

Liam did not manage to Vanish anything that lesson – Transfiguration at the fifth-year level seemed just as incomprehensible as sixth-year had been. However, at the end of the lesson, Ginny reassured him quietly, "It's okay, hardly anyone managed to do it on their first go. I reckon your pen was getting a bit transparent. You'll get it, don't worry."

Liam was grateful for her encouragement, but remained unconvinced. His pen was made of clear plastic, and as far as he could see, it was no more transparent than it had been before the lesson. He did not point this out to Ginny, however: he was too relieved that he was on speaking terms with her again. Knowing that she wasn't angry about the broken string incident brightened up his day – he'd been feeling extremely guilty for taking his anger out on her.

Ginny occupied Liam's mind as he made his way to the Charms classroom. It was only when he saw the green and silver badges on the robes of the other students, that he remembered he would be doing Charms with the Slytherins.

The glances directed towards him were far from friendly. The students huddled together and began whispering. Liam tried to ignore them and sat down near the front of the room. He figured it would be easier, as he'd be asking Professor Flitwick a lot of questions.

He noticed one student sitting a little apart from the others, in a scene strangely reminiscent of Ginny in the Transfiguration class. The boy, however, made no motions for Liam to come over. Liam hadn't really expected him to: the lonely student was Jeremy Leighton, the arrogant new fifth-year Slytherin.

Studying him from across the room, Liam noted with some surprise that Jeremy did not appear to have the same arrogant air now. In fact, he looked pale and drawn, much like Liam himself had been feeling. Liam wondered whether Jeremy had been having as much trouble with his studies as he was.

Jeremy looked up and met Liam's gaze. He made a strange movement – for a moment he half stood up at his desk, as if he wanted to come over, but then he sat back down again, turning to stare resolutely at the paintings on the wall. Another boy sat down next to him and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Jeremy smiled, though it appeared somehow forced. He glanced again in Liam's direction. Realising he'd been staring, Liam looked away.

He was prevented from musing on Jeremy's strange behaviour by the arrival of Professor Flitwick. Seeing Liam, Flitwick smiled and said, "Ahh, Mr Grady! Good to see you here. Let's see how you go now, eh?"

It was a difficult lesson, but Liam had a bit more success than he'd had with Transfiguration. The class was revising Cheering Charms, and by the end of the lesson, Liam had actually managed to make his stony-faced Slytherin partner smile. Granted, the smile was more than half grimace, but Liam felt that all things considered, he hadn't done too badly.

Flitwick held him back to give him some extra homework, and he was one of the last people to leave the class. As he turned to walk towards the Great Hall, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Grady," said Jeremy's voice behind him. "How's it going?"

Surprised, Liam turned around. "Not bad, I guess. And you?"

Jeremy shrugged. He opened his mouth to say something, then appeared to change his mind. "I'm doing well," he said finally. "I had a very good tutor, so I'm actually ahead of my class in many subjects."

"Good for you," said Liam, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Did this boy just want to brag to him? He wanted to say something to get under Jeremy's skin, and he remembered their conversation before the Sorting. "Hey, good tip on the Sorting. Putting on the hat was a really hard test. I see you performed the task well – you're in Slytherin."

Jeremy scowled, but there was something half-hearted about it – Liam sensed that the younger boy was preoccupied with something. "Yeah, well... not my fault they lied to me, is it?" he said.

Liam suddenly thought of something. "Hey, Leighton – what did the Sorting Hat say to you? Did it ask you what House you wanted to be in?"

Jeremy sighed, and replied, "Yeah, it did. It said, 'You are old enough to know for yourself.' So I said Slytherin."

Seeing the tired, somehow lost expression on Jeremy's face, Liam wondered whether he really was old enough to know. In fact, Liam was almost certain that Jeremy was now regretting his decision.

_I wonder why that is?_ he thought. But knew better than to ask.

---

Several days later, to Liam's great surprise, Ellie asked him whether he wanted her to show him around Hogsmeade. Liam accepted the offer eagerly. He'd been looking forward to the Hogsmeade weekend, and was glad to have somebody there to show him the sights. He was pleasantly surprised that Ellie had actually worked up the courage to ask him. He hoped that he'd had a part to play in her increasing confidence.

In the days leading up to the Hogsmeade weekend, the weather worsened steadily, and the Saturday morning dawned sullen and grey. The first, fat drops of rain began to fall as Liam and Ellie were making their way to the village. Liam opened up his huge black umbrella, and held onto Ellie's arm to make sure she was covered.

She showed him around Honeydukes, Zonko's and the Shrieking Shack. By the end of the tour, the rain had turned into a steady downpour, so Liam suggested they go somewhere warm and get a drink. Ellie agreed, and led him back to the village centre. She seemed strangely silent as they walked – it was almost a return to the terrified girl she'd been when Liam had first met her.

Liam saw several Hogwarts students go into a pub called "The Three Broomsticks". He was about to make for the pub, but Ellie held him back.

"No – wait!"

Liam stopped and looked at her curiously. "What's up?

"It's just... I wanted to ask you something..." Ellie blushed a deep crimson. She had grabbed the edge of her cloak and was twisting it around in her hand.

_Uh-oh_, thought Liam.

Ellie took a deep breath. "It's just... I... sorta... like you!" The last bit came out in a rush. Liam knew it had cost her every ounce of courage she possessed to say it.

This was going to be tricky.

"Ellie, look..." he began. To his dismay, he could already see the disappointment spreading over her face. He tried as hard as he could to remedy the situation. "Look, I really like you – but..."

"But?"

"I... just... not in that way..."

Ellie took a step back. "I should have known. I knew it was too good to be true. You're all nice, but it's always 'not in that way'. Nobody ever likes me 'in that way'. Nobody wants a fat pimply girl with a crooked nose!"

He could see she was fighting back tears. Liam felt terrible, but what could he do? He had to explain, but deep inside he already knew it would be useless.

"It's not like that!" he cried desperately. "I just..."

She cut him off. "It is. Don't bother lying, Liam. It always is. I should be used to it by now – but..." Her voice broke. Without another word, she turned and fled up the road.

_But it _is_ like that_, thought Liam. _You're a wonderful person, the only good friend I have in this place – I don't want to ruin that! It's got nothing to do with looks, can't you see?_

But Ellie couldn't see, as Liam had known she wouldn't. "Ellie, wait!" he yelled, and ran after her.

The rain was coming down in sheets now, and he could barely see her fleeing shape in the gloom. He slipped on the wet cobblestones and fell over backwards, slamming down hard. "God dammit!" he yelled, groaning from the pain.

Scrambling to his feet, he looked ahead and realised he could no longer see Ellie. He began to run again, but it was difficult. He realised his teeth were chattering from the cold.

"Ellie!"

The cold was so intense now that he could barely move his legs. He slowed to a walk and then stopped. He could hardly breathe – the cold seemed to be penetrating right through to his bone marrow. The umbrella slipped out of his shaking hand.

That was when Liam heard the music...

_It pounded in his ears, a trashy dance beat turned up too loud, the speakers emitting a growl of distortion at every beat of the bass. He realised he was in a house, and there were people everywhere. They stood around in little, noisy groups. Some were dancing, others were smoking and most were drinking._

_It was Davey's house, of course – how had he forgotten? It was Davey's house, and Davey's parents were in Germany for the weekend, and Davey had invited half the grade..._

_Liam desperately needed to go to the toilet. There was a line for the downstairs bathroom – he was going up the stairs, to the other bathroom, the one Davey said no one was to use, but of course Liam could, he was Davey's best friend..._

_The stairs wobbled beneath him – he grabbed onto the banister to steady himself, laughing softly. This was one great party..._

_He had to lean on the bathroom door in order to grab the doorknob – otherwise he kept on missing it... He laughed again, holding it tightly. He turned the knob and practically fell into the bathroom as his weight pushed open the door..._

_---_

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting inside the Three Boomsticks, in a booth by the rain-streaked window. They were sipping Butterbeer and speaking in low voices.

"I spread a few rumours," Hermione was saying. "Actually, they weren't even lies, I told people real stuff."

"Like what?" asked Ron curiously.

"Like... I told Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil about..." - she glanced at Harry nervously – "...Regulus Black."

Harry started at the name, but he didn't say anything, so she went on. "They were talking about Tonks, and I said, 'Did you know her uncle was a Death Eater?' That got their attention. I told them how he joined the Death Eaters and then was killed when he tried to pull out."

Ron looked at her with a puzzled expression. "But what's the point of telling Lavender and Parvati? I mean, I know they're a bit dumb, but you don't think they'd actually join You-Know-Who, do you?"

Hermione snorted. "Of course not – if nothing else they'd be put off by the Dark Mark – they'd probably say it's tacky. But they are the biggest gossips in out year – I've already been hearing rumours that Professor Tonks' uncle was a Death Eater who was tortured and killed by Voldemort when he tried to mend his ways! It's amazing how much colour stories like this can pick in the hands of a couple of gossips."

Harry was impressed. He was a little uncomfortable with the idea of rumours being spread about Sirius' brother, but he had to admit, Hermione's plan was a good one. He himself had not come up with any adequate way to "gather support for Dumbledore". He was still debating whether or not to re-form the DA.

He looked out the window at the gloomy street. He knew that reforming the Defence group was the best thing he could do, the best way to achieve their goals – but he still wasn't sure whether he could bring himself to do it. Every time he thought of the DA, his memories quickly travelled to the Department of Mysteries, and the battle in the Death Room. Even now, the image came unbidden to his mind: Sirius falling backwards, as if in slow motion, the laughter on his face mingling with surprise. The image was so real, Harry wanted to call out to him; only a tiny part of his brain screamed, _you're not there, this has already happened! You're in the Three Broomsticks with Ron and Hermione..._

It was deathly cold – Harry felt the chill penetrating to his very bones. In a flash, realisation dawned.

"Dementors!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. Ron and Hermione, who were also shivering, stared at him in shock. "Dementors... outside!"

He ran for the door, oblivious to Hermione's shout of "Harry, wait!" behind him. There were Dementors outside, and he had to do something.

_Think happy thoughts_, he told himself. _Think of Ron and Hermione and Fred and George and Ginny. Think of playing Quidditch._

He thought of Sirius.

_No!_

Harry could see them now, dark shapes in the gloom. There were several of them gliding towards the street corner.

Think of your friends... 

"_Expecto Patronum!_" he bellowed, concentrating with all his willpower on any trace of happiness he could find in his heart. The huge silver stag erupted from his wand and charged towards the Dementors.

Harry followed. He could see now that there was a huddled figure on the road, kneeling on the cobblestones as the Dementors glided towards it. The stag bent its silver head and ran straight at the hooded shapes. The Dementors stood back from their prey, and then turned and glided away. The stag, however, did not disappear, but turned around and sprang away up the street and onto the path that led back to Hogwarts.

Harry ran to the kneeling figure. "Are you alright?" he said.

As he drew close, Harry realised that it was Liam. He stared at Harry with wild, unseeing eyes and screamed, "Get an ambulance, now!"

Harry shook him by the shoulders. "Liam, wake up! It isn't real! Wake up, they're gone now!"

Hermione and Ron came up behind him. "Is he alright?" asked Hermione anxiously.

Liam shuddered, and then his eyes seemed to clear. His shoulders sagged, and he looked around him, finally realising where he was. Then, for some reason, he lifted his hands in front of his face and studied them carefully, as if seeing them for the first time.

He began to shake; whether with cold or something else, Harry couldn't tell.

"Here, eat this," said Hermione, pulling a Chocolate Frog out of her pocket.

Bewildered, Liam took the frog and bit into it. After several bites, the shaking subsided, and he seemed to calm down. He was still shivering slightly – his clothes were soaked through, and his hair was plastered to his forehead.

"What happened?" he said, rising shakily to his feet. "What... were those things?"

"Dementors," said Harry. "My Patronus chased them off, but I think there must be more around – it went up the path towards the school."

"The school?" said Hermione in horror. "Are they attacking the school?"

"I don't know!" said Harry. The significance of what had just happened hadn't had time to sink in. "I don't know, why else would they be here? But surely they can't get into the school..."

A look of panic appeared on Liam's face. "Ellie!" he yelled, and set off at a sprint in the same direction as Harry's Patronus.

"Liam!" shouted Hermione. "Wait!"

Harry set out after him. He could hear Ron and Hermione splashing along behind him. He hoped desperately that all the Dementors had been chased off by the stag - he knew that Liam would not be able to defend himself against them. How could he? He'd never even _seen_ a Dementor before!

"Liam, you idiot," he muttered as he ran.

They drew level with the Three Broomsticks. People were spilling out of the door, looking around and speaking in worried tones. "What's happening?" called out Ginny as they ran past.

There was a scream from inside the pub. Harry stopped in his tracks – something was wrong, terribly wrong...

There was another scream, followed by a crash. More people were spilling out the door now, and some of them were shouting.

In a moment, Harry could see why. Flames were licking the wooden doorframe, and thick black smoke was pouring out along with the panicking students.

"Fire!" Harry yelled above the din. "How can it be on fire? It's pouring with rain!"

"It's magical!" shouted Hermione. "Harry, this is no accident..."

In a split second, Harry's decision was made. "You two... stay here. See if you can do something. I'll go after Liam."

Hermione nodded. "Harry, be careful!"

"You too!"

He set off again, hid heart pounding in his chest. There was no time to think, but one thing had already crossed Harry's mind. _It's an attack, it has to be. Voldemort has made the first move..._

Behind him, even through the noise of the pouring rain, he heard a sudden chorus of screams. He looked over his shoulder and saw the thing he'd been dreading – but also expecting – since that fateful night when Voldemort regained his powers.

The Dark Mark was floating in the sky above Hogsmeade.


End file.
